Let The First Annual Hunger Games Begin!
by mishalina
Summary: Closed! Even if you haven't submitted a character, come vote for the ones you want to live longer! Rated T for violence. Obviously. I mean, these are the Hunger Games!
1. Intro

"All in favour, please raise your hand." President Shingle stared down the table at his advisers, a small smile on his face. After the long-lasting war between the rebels and the Capitol, he wanted to come up with a yearly reminder to the districts—a reminder that the Capitol obliterated Thirteen and came close to destroying several other districts as well. Of course, Thirteen still existed, but only President Shingle knew about that. He had kept it even from his advisers.

Almost every adviser at the table raised his or her hand. It was ten to three.

"Good. I will make the announcement immediately."

* * *

Every eye in the country of Panem was watching a TV screen. They had been told it was mandatory programming, that it was important. But no one was prepared for the announcement that was to come.

President Shingle's face was filling every screen in Panem. His white hair with odd black streaks. His deep, startling green eyes that struck fear in the hearts of the innocent. His sly, evil face, with a hint of a triumphant smile as he began to speak.

"Citizens of Panem. I am here to inform you of what will take place in six months. Six months from now, the Capitol will hold a special, annual celebration called the Hunger Games to remind the districts that the Capitol is in complete and total control. In this celebration, one girl and one boy from each district will be reaped—their name drawn from a collection of the names of every child aged twelve to eighteen within that district. A child aged twelve will have their name in the draw once. A child aged thirteen will have their name in the draw twice, and so on.

"The twenty-four selected children will be brought here for training and preparation, and then they will be put into an arena full of dangers to fight to the death. There will be only one survivor, and that child will be crowned the victor of the Games, until the next year. The prizes for winning will be great.

"As not everything has yet been decided, more information is to come, along with an official set of rules and regulations. Thank you."

As the people of Panem realized what this meant, you could have heard their gasps from outer space.


	2. Tribute List

**_IMPORTANT "SPONSORING" INFORMATION!_ Once the Games begin, I will need your help to decide who stays alive the longest. Don't vote until after the interviews, but once they're done, review each chapter, mentioning the name of your favourite tribute. You may only choose one tribute per chapter, and you cannot vote for the tribute[s] you submitted yourself. Anyone who didn't submit a tribute can vote for whomever they choose. _You have the power to influence the games! Choose wisely! _If you have any questions or ideas, PM me :)**

**District 1 -**

F: Melicia Stone [12]

M: Daunte Persimmons [16]

**District 2 -**

F: Xena Skrane [17]

M: Vicious Kvitova [18]

**District 3 -**

F: Myeeka Jewel [15/16](birthday during Games)

M: Tam "Toggle" Finkler [18]

**District 4 -**

F: Adena Johnson [12]

M: Glade Synther [15]

**District 5 -**

F: Belle Rose [16]

M: Simon Yarrow [16]

**District 6 -**

F: Cirstea Ware [17]

M: Carbon Vander [18]

**District 7 - **

F: Sirena Heartwood [14]

M: Ash Torenn [17]

**District 8 -**

F: Tanaly "Tana" Valban [15]

M: Peri Wilcox [18]

**District 9 -**

F: Levia Rosscoe [16]

M: Mark Vires [14]

**District 10 -**

F: Safita Kohritzi [13]

M: Lyle Henders [17]

**District 11 -**

F: Reena "Zero" Zeter [unknown, around fourteen?]

M: Fleck Spear [14]

**District 12 -**

F: Jay Grayheart [15]

M: Dag Clearwood [16]

**Thank you for submitting tributes!**


	3. District One Reapings

**Melicia Stone: **

Just because I'm twelve, and I work inside all day, doesn't mean I'm not strong. I'm actually very muscular. For one thing, my job is to carry the boxes of supplies for making jewellery for people in the Capitol. I carry them in from the truck that delivers them from elsewhere in the district, and someone else makes them into a necklace. And those boxes are heavy, let me tell you. All the rage in the Capitol right now are these huge colourful glass beads, so big that they fit snugly in the palm of my hand. They are strung onto thick leather cords and worn with strange outfits that are made in District Eight. The other reason for my strength and muscle is that I have an older brother. His name is Marson. He likes to wrestle, and through the years, my father, Clastro, taught me several methods for beating him. I often do beat him, even though he's fifteen, because the tricks my father has shown me are smart and sneaky, and they catch him off guard.

My father and Marson are the only family I've got. My mother was taken last year as a prisoner of war to the Capitol, and I haven't heard from her since. I don't know if she is dead or alive. My father is struggling to take care of my brother and I. We were never well-off to begin with, but my mother's job was better than my father's. She designed necklaces and other things for the Capitol. My father and Marson are assemblers at the jewellery building where I work, and they don't make very much money.

On my tenth birthday, my parents did something really special for me. My mother designed a beautiful ring, and my father made it for me. The ring has a silver band with a heart on the front. A large emerald adorns the heart, and goes perfectly with the silver. I haven't taken it off since that day. But then, my mother was taken away, and now I wear it for another reason. As a reminder. I can't forget her. I won't let her become a hazy memory.

We are being gathered the square, for what is being referred to as "the Reaping". Marson and I are split up. He goes to the boys' side and I am herded to the girls'. I am lined up with other girls my age and we wait in silence as a man walks up to the stage. At nine o' clock, on the dot, he begins to speak. And finally I recognize him. President Shingle.

I resent him for the things he and his perfect little Capitol have done, and this is only one more thing to add to my long list. High on the list is my absent mother, but this tops it all off. Because when he has finished making his speech, and pulls a slip of paper from a glass ball, it's my name he reads off of it.

* * *

**Daunté Persimmons:**

It's unfair, the way that poor girl has been chosen. She can't be more than twelve years old, and she's so doll-like—with her shoulder-length, curly blonde hair, her pink lips and her long lashes—that it makes me sad to look at her. No one volunteers to take her place. Melicia, her name is. I feel sorry for her.

I've seen her before. I think we work at the same building. She must be the one that carries the boxes of beads in for me, so I can string them onto necklaces. No wonder she looks so muscular; those boxes are really heavy. One time she dropped one on her foot. Only two of the glass beads shattered, and the rest of them were okay, but it must have hurt a lot. She refused to cry, though, and she told me she was fine. All the same, a different person carried in the boxes for the rest of the day.

I don't get to think for long, though, because President Shingle heads over to the glass ball full of thousands of boys' names, and removes a slip of paper. "The male tribute for District One is . . . Daunté Persimmons!" No one claps. It takes some nudging from the people around me for me to realize he's said my name. I slowly walk up to the platform and shake the president's hand, hate in my eyes. When asked for volunteers, no one steps forward. It's me and the little girl. Melicia.

Dang.

The president reads the Treaty of Treason, the anthem plays, and Melicia and I are led into the Justice Building by two Peacekeepers, each of us sent into a different room to wait for visitors. The room is comfortable and rich, filled with lots of beautiful things much like the things our district makes for the people of the Capitol.

The first people who come to visit are from my family. My mother, father, and younger sister, Nym. They have the same dark skin and dark hair that I have. We are set apart from most of the people in our district, who usually have fair skin and light hair.

Nym comes to sit on my lap. She is nine, but she is small and slim, like me. She has curly dark brown hair, and it tickles my cheek as she hugs me.

"Be strong," I tell her. "But cover your eyes at all the scary parts." She nods. I know she would have anyways, but she is so sweet and innocent. I don't want her to have nightmares from the Games.

"If I don't come back—" I begin, but my mother starts to cry and I decide I should shut up. It's hard enough for her as it is.

"I love you, son," says my father.

"I love you too," I reply. Nym is still hugging me, and I can feel her tears making a wet spot on my shoulder. My father pries her from me so that he can give me a proper hug, and my mother hugs me, too. All too soon, the Peacekeeper who escorted me here takes them away, and sends in someone else. Estée, my cousin.

She has a small smile plastered on her face, but tears are in her eyes as she realizes what this goodbye means. It could be our last conversation ever. She hugs me tightly, but she has started to cry, so she can't say much.

"Take care of Nym," I say, but I know she will. And then she, too, is taken from me.

* * *

**Melicia:**

I am crying. I did my best to stay strong until now, but I can't help it. My family has come to say goodbye, and I can't stop weeping when I understand that I probably won't come back. Marson is hugging me—a gentle hug that is so different from the way he wrestles with me—but I squeeze him tightly. My father has tears in his eyes. But no one speaks. We have always known each other well enough to not need more than a few words to express ourselves. The allotted time passes quickly, and they are ushered out.

My best friends in the entire world have also come to say goodbye. Trilina, Mesaphor, and Willoughbee. Trilina is two years older than Willoughbee, Mesaphor and I. We've been friends since I was five.

I don't blame any of them for not volunteering to take my place. I wouldn't have wanted them to. If one of them had, I would have had to watch them die on screen knowing that it should have been me. I wouldn't have been able to live with it.

They each give me a hug and make me promise to try my best to stay alive. I give them my word, but I don't know how well I can hold to it. Then we attempt to talk in a light and easy way, trying to take our minds off of the horrors that await me.

I am still crying.


	4. District Two Reapings

**Xena Skrane:**

I run my fingers over my smooth head. I began shaving it a couple of years ago, and then got it tattooed with red swirls that start at the top of my head and twist down my neck and onto my shoulders. Wherever I go, people look at me funny, trying to figure out whether I am male or female.

I am told I look more like a boy. I have broad, muscular shoulders and thick legs, and my lips are thin. I am fierce, and I have an extremely short temper. I show no weakness.

When I was fourteen, I lost my left eye and ear in an explosion. No one knows what caused it, no one wants to try to figure it out. But after that, everyone felt sorry for me. That's why I shaved my head. I'm sick of being thought of as weak.

I am sitting at home now. Waiting. In just a little while, I will have to go to the square in front of the Justice Building for the Reaping. I'm not afraid. If I get chosen, I'll do my best. I'll kill everyone in my path, and win. I have very few doubts that I'll be able to. I have gotten used to using only one eye and one ear, and I don't think it will be enough of a weakness to get me killed. If I don't get chosen, I'll volunteer anyways. Because if I can win, no one will ever think of me as weak again.

A voice breaks into my thoughts. "Here are your pancakes, Xena," says my mother. I look at them.

"They have blueberries in them! I specifically said that I wanted plain pancakes today! Make a new batch," I say. She'll eat the ones with blueberries if I don't. We don't have enough food to waste any. But still, she will make a new batch for me. She's weak, and I have always bossed her around.

I also have a thirteen-year-old brother. He is exactly like my mother. Weak. Even_ I_ am more masculine than he is. He is a coward, and I despise him for it. We have never gotten along. Right now, he is upstairs, still only waking up. He might even be late for the reaping.

My father is the only person in this family that I love. I am just like him in both the way I look and act, and he is very proud of me. He is confident that I can win the Games, so he is glad I am going to volunteer.

It's finally time. I walk over to the square to be lined up with the other seventeen-year-old girls. As I walk, a small group of people comes to flock around me. They think I am the greatest thing ever, and they are always following me. But when we get to the square we are split up by Peacekeepers and sent to our own age groups. And I wait. It doesn't take as long as I thought it would before the female tribute is picked, and then I volunteer.

This is going to be fun.

* * *

**Vicious Kvitova:**

If I hadn't been reaped, I would have been a Peacekeeper.

That is the only thing I can think about. Maybe there is still a chance, but it is slim. I mean, I'm up against twenty-four other tributes! Not to mention the other girl from my district, Xena Skrane. She intimidates me.

But _I _need to be the intimidating one if I am to survive a minute in the Games. I need to be quick, cunning, smart. I need to be strong. I _must_ come out alive. I _must_ come home and become a Peacekeeper. I can't let this stop me.

All I've been training for, all my life, is to be a Peacekeeper. It's everything I've ever worked for. I have no life outside of Peacekeeper training. I've avoided friendships, avoided love, distanced myself from my family, all because I've been preparing to be torn away from my home when I turned eighteen.

It's been two days since my eighteenth birthday. At eighteen, I am officially allowed to join the Peacekeepers, but they haven't allowed me to sign up yet, because of the Reaping. They didn't want me to sign up, then get reaped and not be able to join anyways. And they were right. I was reaped, and not a single person cared enough to take my place.

When I am taken to a room to say my last goodbyes, only my parents come.

"Vicious, you know we love you, right?" my mother says. I grunt. "We love you more than you'll ever know. No matter how much you push us away, we will never stop loving you." I say nothing.

The room is very silent, and extremely awkward. No one says anything. And time passes by slowly. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Although there is no clock in the room, I can hear the seconds ticking by in my head. Tick, tock.

Finally, a Peacekeeper comes in. I know him. I've known him for a long time, but he doesn't acknowledge me. He escorts my parents out, but my dad has time to say, "I hope you come back. Please try to come back, Vicious."

Just because he says that, I'm beginning to think maybe I won't.

* * *

**Xena:**

My father is my only visitor. My mother and brother are too afraid to be put in a small room with me, and the adoration of my small flock of admirers only goes so far. But the visit with my father is nice. He understands me like no one else can.

"Be brave," he says, "show no weakness. No mercy. I know you can outsmart them all. You'll be home in no time." He smiles, and I grin back. Then he hugs me, a form of affection that no one has shown me for a long time. I stiffen, but then relax and hug him back.

I decide to give him a surprise, too. "I love you," I say. I never say anything like that. But he simply says, "I love you, too," and grins again.

I really am sad when he is escorted out. I know that no matter what I say, there's a chance I won't be coming back. I would never admit that aloud, but there's a small part of me that admits it's true.

But there is one thing I know for sure.

I am not afraid.


	5. District Three Reapings

**Myeeka Jewel:**

"Hurry up, Chelle!" I call behind me, brushing a long brown curl from my face. "Toggle and I don't want to have to wait for you!" Toggle and Chelle are both eighteen, four years older than I, but we're best friends, just the same. Somehow I always get along better with those older than me.

"Why do you two always have to walk so fast?" Chelle complains, but she quickens her pace.

I toy with my necklace as we walk. It's a bronze, owl-shaped locket hanging on a leather cord. Inside are pictures of Toggle and Chelle. They gave it to me for my fourteenth birthday.

We are heading towards the square in front of the Justice Building. Toggle and I are still within the age required to be included in the reaping, but with Chelle's birthday in two days, she wouldn't even be in the arena by the time she turned nineteen. My birthday is also soon, in only ten days, but I will be turning fifteen, which is still in the age limit. Toggle will only have to take part in the reaping for one year, whereas I still have a few years left.

Chelle has caught up, but we will be separated soon, and she will stand with our families, who are lagging behind. The younger children, like Madden and Moss, the four-year-old twins who are my brother and sister, are slowing them down.

When we reach the square, Chelle retreats to find our families. Toggle and I are holding hands, thinking we can stay together, but we are split apart to be sent to opposite ends of the square: he to the boys' side and I to the girls'. Then, once again, we are categorized, this time by age. I catch Toggle's eyes in the sea of moving heads, and smile reassuringly. He grins back, but I know him well enough to understand that it's fake. This is not a happy occasion, whether he's a jocular person or not.

We are packed like sardines; thousands of girls my age are standing around me, suffocating me and making me feel claustrophobic, even though I'm usually not. But when a hush falls over the crowd, I feel better. Having less noise helps.

Well, until I see who has taken the stage. President Shingle himself is standing up there, looking not only evil, but smug. The sight of him makes my blood boil. So many people I used to know. So many I used to love. Dead. Because of him. I hate him.

But I hate him more when I realize what has happened next. After a long and boring speech, he selects a slip of paper from one of two large glass balls on the stage. And then he reads my name off of it.

He's grinning.

I hate him.

* * *

**Tam "Toggle" Finkler:**

Why her? Of all of the thousands of girls' names in that draw, why would he pick out _her_ name? Myeeka. My best friend. And no one volunteers to take her place.

I have known her since she was little. She couldn't hurt a fly. In fact, she rescues spiders when I want to squash them. She picks up worms from the sidewalk and places them in the grass so they won't roast in the sun. She won't last a second in the Games!

I can't stop myself for what I do next. When the name of a twelve-year-old boy is called, the last thing I'm thinking about is volunteering so he doesn't have to go to the Games. I volunteer for my own selfish reason: I can't help but want to protect Myeeka.

I find myself walking towards the stage, taking the place of the small boy. Myeeka gives me a glance, and I can see that she is angry at me. She knows that I am surely walking into a death trap. She had no choice, and I am going willingly! She doesn't understand.

I am vaguely aware of President Shingle droning on and the anthem playing, but I am too engaged in my own thoughts to pay attention. Then Myeeka and I are led to separate rooms in our district's Justice Building to say our goodbyes.

My first visitor is the only living relative I know I have left. My thirteen-year-old brother, Thorn. We were separated from the rest of our family several years ago. We were taking a train to try to get away from District Three, but Thorn needed to use the restroom. I took him, and the train left without us. We never saw our family again. I used to have three older brothers and a baby sister. Not anymore. Then Thorn and I found some old family friends, the Jewels (Myeeka's family), and they took us in. I've been helping provide for their family in return.

Thorn comes to give me a hug. "Be good for the Jewels, okay?" I say. He nods, so I continue. "I'm expecting you to take on my job. I was only two years older than you are now when I started helping put food on the table for Myeeka's family. You need to start helping, too. You're smart, Thorn, and I know you can do it."

"I will," he assures me. "But you'll try to come back, right?"

"My priority is keeping Myeeka alive. If she dies before me, maybe I will. But I'm not planning on it."

Thorn understands. "Well, send her back home, then," he says with a sigh. "Her family will be so happy if she comes back alive." I know what he means. He doesn't want to have to live with a family that is traumatized over their daughter's death.

"I promise I will do my absolute best," I say. I give him a hug. Then he is escorted out by a Peacekeeper.

Next comes Chelle. Her short brown hair has blonde highlights that accent it perfectly. She's very beautiful, and with her beautiful personality, she outshines everyone around her. We were a couple for a short time, but it didn't last long. We're better as friends.

Chelle comes to sit beside me. "I know you're going only to protect Myeeka."

"Yeah," I reply.

"So this is goodbye."

"Even if she dies before me, there's not much of a chance I'll live. I'll try, but I doubt I'll be back. So, yes, this is goodbye." I don't attempt to make jokes like I normally would have. It's not the time, and if there's one thing I know, it's that there's a time to be funny, and a time to be serious. This is definitely a serious situation.

"Toggle, I'll miss you!" Chelle says. She's on the verge of tears.

"I'll miss you, too," I say, and I open up my arms. She hugs me tight, her tears falling freely.

"Why? Why did you have to volunteer? Both of my best friends. Gone. Probably to their deaths. If you had stayed, it would have been more bearable. But I don't know how I'm going to live. I see you every single day. How can I go on without you?"

"You know why I volunteered."

"Yeah, I do. I would have taken her place if I could have. But it doesn't make it any better for me."

"I know."

She's taken away, and Myeeka's parents come in.

"Thank you," says her father. He knows why I volunteered.

"I'll send her back to you. I swear I will," I say.

"Don't kid yourself," he replies. "Try your best, but don't make promises you may not be able to keep." I am silent. He's right, but I wanted to reassure him.

"We'll take care of Thorn for you," says Myeeka's mother.

"Thank you," I say. The room is silent, and eventually a Peacekeeper comes to lead them out.

* * *

**Myeeka:**

Why would Toggle risk his life for me? I'm as good as dead anyways, and I probably won't have much of a better chance with him. We'll probably both end up dead, causing my parents double the trauma.

My first visitor arrives. Chelle, of course. With tears in her eyes, she gives me a hug. She doesn't want to let me go.

"Will you wear that into the Arena?" She points to my necklace.

"I've worn it constantly since you gave it to me!" I say. "I won't take it off unless they force me."

"Good," she says, almost smiling.

We sit in silence for a while, then she speaks again. "You know, Toggle is going to do his best to get you home."

"I know. He shouldn't have volunteered. I don't think either of us really has a chance."

"Please, try to come back. I don't know if I can live without you, especially if Toggle dies, too."

"I'll try."

"I would have volunteered for you, you know . . ." she says. Her voice is barely above a whisper.

"I know," I say. Then she is taken away from me.

My family visits next. My mother, father, and Madden and Moss. Moss is in a pretty little red and pink dress, and Madden is in a matching outfit. But both of their outfits are soiled, like they fell in the mud. They clamber onto my lap, and I don't care that they are getting my brand-new dress dirty. I am going to miss them.

They seem to know I am going away, but I am certain they don't understand that I will probably never be back. Poor things.

My parents are having a tough time. A few years ago, my older sister, Ryah, died. No one knows how, only that we found her body in our backyard one day. They can't bear to lose another child.

My mother hugs me, and I give her a fake smile. My father does the same. I make them promise to take care of Thorn, Toggle's brother. But their visit seems to be shorter than Chelle's was, and they are gone before I know it.

Did I mention how much I hate President Shingle?


	6. District Four Reapings

**Adena Johnson:**

If there can only be one reason I could win the Games, it's because I'm sneaky.

When I was really little, I was an expert at taking extra food from my family's cupboards. If my father's back was turned, even for just a second, I was able to steal bread from the cupboard while I was in the same room with him, get it undetected into the room I share with all three of my brothers, and eat it, without a single person seeing me.

Now, at twelve, I am a practically a professional thief. My father always thought I was a waste of space since I can't be a fisherman, so I decided to prove him wrong. I provide for the family more than he and my brothers combined. Their jobs as fisherman don't bring in very much money, and they actually have to work for it. But me? I am above actual work. Stealing is where the_ real_ money's at.

I remember the first time I stole from an actual shop. I was seven years old, and very demanding. I've never been able to stand not getting what I want. There was this amazing silver fish bracelet in a store window, and I swear, I fell in love with it the instant I saw it. I begged and begged my father to buy it for me, but he just didn't have the money. So one morning I went to the store, ready to work the 'I'm-just-a-cute-little-girl-who-thinks-everything-is-so-fascinating' act.

Enter Heron, my best friend. He's my age, and I have known him since we were four. He has always been my partner-in-crime, literally. That first day, I convinced him to come to the store with me. As I ran around squealing over every little thing, he enhanced the act, by following me around and making it look like I had a reason to be there.

I went right next to the bracelet and pretended to get excited over a pair of ugly earrings, and as I stood there, I grabbed the bracelet and stuck it in my pocket. Then Heron and I took a few coins that we had brought as a cover-up and bought a piece of candy each. I went home with a beautiful bracelet, and I still wear it everywhere to this day. It's my favourite accomplishment, even though I've stolen many bigger and better things since.

I've already been busy this morning. Heron and I met at the crack of dawn to go across town and steal a special fishing net my father had his eye on the day before. We stole some bread from a baker on the way home, and pick-pocketed an old lady who probably hasn't even noticed her purse missing yet. But now I have to take off my comfortable clothes and get dressed up to go to the reaping.

I'm not exactly worried about the reaping. I mean, I wouldn't be happy if I were chosen, but I wouldn't be all that unhappy either. I kind of want the chance to prove myself even more than I already have. I want to have a chance to come home a hero.

I'm pretty sure I'll volunteer, even if I don't get reaped.

Heron and I are meeting once again. At the big rock behind his house, as always. We are going to walk to the reaping together.

He grins when he sees me. "Great job today," he says.

"You too!" I grin back.

"How does your dad like his new fishing net?"

"He's overjoyed, but he didn't have any doubts that we could get it for him."

Heron laughs.

"Ready?" I say.

"As I'll ever be . . ."

Heron is definitely nervous. The last thing he wants is to be reaped. But his older brother loves him so much that I'm sure even if he is reaped, his place will be taken.

We walk to the square quickly, but it's quite far, so it takes nearly an hour anyways. When we finally get there, we're both out of breath, and neither of us wants to do anything other than curl up and sleep. However, now is not the time for rest.

There are many many Peacekeepers around to keep everyone moving, and we're getting so packed into the crowd that we couldn't stop if we tried. But somehow, they manage to separate girls from boys and line us up according to age.

And then we wait. Anxiously. When President Shingle takes the stage, and begins to speak, it gets so quiet, I can hear the people in the square shuffling their feet nervously. I bite my lip.

It's as if everyone collectively holds their breath when he prepares to draw the girl tribute's name. Mostly people are hoping their name isn't chosen, but I'm indifferent, so I am breathing normally.

He pulls out a perfectly folded slip of paper and announces in a cheerful voice, "The female tribute for District Four is . . . Adena Johnson!"

I try not to smile as I walk up to the stage. I can't believe I was actually chosen! I'm going to win, though, so I don't really care. I'll come home with great prizes and fame, and I'll never have to steal again! Well, I'll probably do it for fun anyways, but I won't have to do it in order to keep my family alive.

I shake the president's hand and tell the audience how old I am and then I wait for the male tribute to be reaped.

* * *

**Glade Synther:**

It's not like I had anything to live for anyways.

Really. I had nothing. No family. No home. No job. No friends. The only thing I had to keep me occupied was school, and school is the most boring thing ever.

So, really, I'm glad I was reaped. Maybe I'll get killed brutally and be remembered for years to come. Or possibly I'll die quickly and silently from thirst or hunger and be forgotten forever. Either way, I know I won't come out alive, and I don't expect to.

I suppose I haven't said much, but I have nothing more to say, because I know no one will visit me before I am shipped off to the Capitol. No more interesting details need to be recorded. I'm just going to try to have a nap, now.

* * *

**Adena:**

My father and brothers come to say goodbye first. There will be no tears, because we all know I will be back. I mean, how could I lose? If I want to win, I'll win. I know I will. Maybe I'm small, maybe I'm young, but I'm quick and sneaky, and I am always aware of what's going on around me. I will not let anyone creep up on me. I will not let myself die.

None of them give me a hug. None of them say anything sappy. None of them even talk at all. I'm really not sure why they came, if they aren't going to do anything but stare at me.

And then they leave. "Bye," I say, but the door has already closed. It was a little strange, but it's not like it really will be the last time I see them.

Heron is my next visitor. He heads straight for me and gives me a hug. He has tears in his eyes. He has always been doubtful of everything, and he doesn't believe I have a chance.

"I'll be back," I promise, but the tears begin to spill onto his cheeks and he shakes his head. I hug him again, letting him cry onto my shoulder.

"Who will help me steal stuff so my family can live?" he asks.

"You don't need anyone to help you. You're as quick and sneaky as me, and you can do it by yourself. Don't worry. You'll be fine, even if I don't come back. Which I _will_."

I don't understand how his visit could be so much shorter than my family's. But I'm sure it is. Because he's already gone.

No one else cares enough to visit me. But I will be in the Capitol soon enough, and then there will be plenty of people to talk to. At least, I think there will be . . .


	7. District Five Reapings

**Belle Rose:**

Gathering herbs for medicine isn't so bad. Mainly I get to work in the forest, where the trees protect from the sun. But many days I have to work in the fields, where the sun burns my skin. And even in the forest, snow and rain fall.

I hear that most districts get the day off on reaping day. Not mine. I'm coming back from the fields now, gripping the hand of my six-year-old brother, Daniel. I picked him up from school, since everyone is supposed to attend this gathering, even those under and over the age of reaping.

But even though everyone's supposed to go, my father won't be there. Ever since my mother died, he's been drinking himself into oblivion. Sometimes he gets so drunk that he hits me. Daniel and I resemble our mother, and I think it hurts him to look at us.

"Belle!" I turn to see Kale Glisten, my best friend, running to catch up with me. He's got sandy blond hair, and he's quite handsome, but there's nothing romantic between us. He has loved me for a long time, but I don't want us to be more than friends, and he respects that.

"Hey!" I say.

"Everyone aged twelve to eighteen is apparently going to get split up from everyone else. My parents said they'll take Daniel for you while we're apart from them."

"Thanks," I say. I lag behind a little to give my brother's hand to Kale's mother. "Be good," I tell him. He assures me he will. He likes Kale's family.

Kale and I are split up when we get to our destination. President Shingle is on stage, and I look at him with eyes of hatred. He's made life hard for my district. For all of the districts.

He explains again why we are here, and then he draws a name from the first glass ball.

"Belle Rose," he reads. I feel a scream rising in my throat, but I refuse to let it escape. Someone is bound to take the place of a small girl with an abusive father and a tiny baby brother, right?

But when asked for volunteers, no one says anything. I nearly scream again.

* * *

**Simon Yarrow:**

I've already had a tough day. Whether we have to be gathered in front of the Justice Building or not, I was expected to work this morning, and I'll be expected to work after the reaping, too. But I always have to work inside, so I'm glad for the fresh air.

A frail-looking girl with long blonde hair is on the stage. She looks about twelve, but when asked, she tells everyone she is sixteen. I'm surprised. She's the same age as me!

President Shingle asks for any girl who would like to take her place, but no one comes forward. I find myself feeling a little bit sorry for her.

The president pulls out a piece of paper from the boys' glass ball and unfolds it. "And the male tribute for District five is Simon Yarrow." My eyes widen. I make my way towards the stage, unsure of what else I can do. If I try to run, all the peacekeepers around here will surely catch me.

When asked for volunteers, the crowd is deadly silent; it is just a sea of thousands of blinking eyes staring at me. Belle, the other tribute, and I are soon led by a Peacekeeper to separate rooms in the Justice Building to say what could be our final goodbyes. I wonder who will show.

My family enters. My father, Konjac Yarrow. My mother, Rebecca. My younger sister, Elizabeth. Still ten, she goes to school like other children her age. However, like me, she is a year advanced, and next year she is to start work making medicine in the same building I have worked in since I was eleven.

As I stare at my family for what may be the last time, I remember all the times we have fought. Silly arguments over petty things like who has to cook the meal, or who gets the 'best' seat at the kitchen table. We can end up holding grudges for several hours, to the point where we won't speak to one another. But in the end, we always make up, because we have unconditional love towards each other.

We don't talk; only hug each other; desperately clinging onto each other for probably the final time. My mother cries.

My father produces a small pin from his pocket. He must have heard the rule, the one that allows each tribute to bring one item from home into the arena. The silver pin is in the shape of a caduceus: two snakes wrapped around a winged staff. I fix it to my shirt.

A Peacekeeper appears. He opens the door to escort my family out. My mother says, "I love you," through tears, as she leaves. Then the door closes and she is gone.

My next visitors are Basil and Willow. Basil has been in my class since the first year of school, and he works alongside me making medicine. Willow is a year older than me, and I have known her for longer than I have known just about anyone else. Her parents we friends with my parents before either of us were even born.

Though I always talk to many people, these are the only two I feel I can confide in. They know nearly everything about me.

Basil jokes around, trying to make light of the situation, and I put on a fake smile. He can see right through it, of course, and immediately puts on a serious face. Willow is still wearing her fake smile, though, to keep from weeping, and she gives me a hug.

"Try to come back alive," she says, squeezing my hand as she pulls away. But suddenly, they are rushed out before I can even get in a reply. No one else bothers to show up, and I am left to my own worries.

* * *

I have been put into a well-furnished room to wait for visitors. Kale's mother brings in Daniel to give me a hug. Tears fill my eyes. I know my father will never take care of him, and I vow to do my absolute best to come back to him alive.

Kale's mother promises she will let him live with her. Daniel seems to be happy with that.

"Don't lose it," he says, pointing at the ring on my finger. I promise not to. It was my mother's engagement ring, one of the only things I have left of her. My father rid the house of everything he possibly could that reminded him of her. Well, except for the few things I was able to hide. It's a simple gold band with a diamond in the middle, but it is very valuable. No one can afford to have a ring made of gold and diamonds these days. It has been an heirloom in my father's family for generations; the mother would pass it down to her son to propose to his future wife with.

Daniel and Kale's mother are soon swept out of the room by a mean-looking Peacekeeper, and the next visitor comes in. Kale.

Kale has loved me for as long as I can remember, but he has never been more than a friend to me. Still, as this may be our last chance to see each other, I give him a quick kiss on the mouth. He smiles.

"Not that that changes anything between us," I inform him.

"I didn't expect it to," he admits, "I'm just gad you did it, because . . ." His voice trails off. He doesn't want to say the horrible truth aloud, the fact that we may never see each other again.

Kale and I talk as normally as possible until he is escorted out. It's good. I needed a distraction.

And then I get an unexpected visitor. My aunt. She is in a wheelchair because of an incident from the recent war, and her face has been burned severely, but she is fine other than that. She tries her best to comfort me, but it becomes awkward, and we end up just sitting there until the Peacekeeper makes her leave. She is my final visitor.


	8. District Six Reapings

**Cirstea Ware:**

My district does the most boring job ever. Water Purification. Sometimes, when I'm bored, I just say it over and over until it becomes meaningless. Try it. Water Purification. Water Purification. Water Purification. Keep saying it until it becomes nothing but a jumble of letters. Wefra Proctuiniati. Now fix it, and say it again and again, until it's really just nonsense. Water Purification.

See? It's so boring, you can make it sound like it gibberish.

Now, take District Twelve. They do coal mining. It's dangerous, and awesome. And look at District Five. They make medicine, so they get to learn all kinds of cool stuff about plants. And District Three? They get the best education so they can make all sorts of things to do with technology. Here? We barely have to learn anything, because machines pretty much do most of the work for us.

Not that I'm really complaining. I'm very high in the standings of District Six. My mother is the CEO of the main water company in our district, and my father does pretty much the easiest job. In the morning, he turns on all the lights and machines in the water purification plant, and turns them all off at the end of the day. And he gets paid a lot for it.

My older brother has been offered a job in the same plant, thanks to my mom, and if it goes well, he'll be promoted. And it won't take long before I have the same deal.

But I don't want to work there. I don't want to turn into a clone of my family.

People think it's a miracle that I have even a hint of a personality. My parents hardly ever smile, and my brother is the same. They are serious just about all the time, and they are really boring. And that's the last thing I want to be.

To keep me occupied in these boring days, I do all sorts of random things. Like, say 'water purification' again and again, for example. And I have pieces of rope, of different thicknesses and lengths, to tie knots in. Interesting hobby, I know. But I'm pretty good at it.

I got started on it when I was a small child. A man from another district was passing through, District Four, I think, and I watched him skillfully tie and untie knots in a rope with fast fingers. And I was fascinated. So I kept every piece of rope I got my hands on, and taught myself how to make different types of knots. Strange? Yes. But surprisingly, quite fun.

It has become my nervous habit, as well as my bored habit, and that is why I'm doing it right now. Not because I'm bored, because I'm nervous. You see, I'm standing with other girls my age, at the very first reaping, and it's quite nerve-racking to know that I could be the one out of thousands of girls who is picked.

My fingers stop their rapid movements, and try to untie a knot, but it holds firm. I made a mistake. I keep trying, but it refuses to budge.

And that's when it hits me.

I'm trapped. Stuck. Tangled up. I can't get free. Just like the knot. Maybe I'm more important than most of the people in my district, but I am no more free than they are. No matter how hard I try, I'll never be out of bondage from the Capitol. They can do what they want with me.

And it is then that I realize that, while I haven't been listening, my name has been called. _I_ am the female tribute for District Six.

* * *

**Carbon Vander:**

My very first thought when my name was called was of Damask.

Damask is from District Eight, and she's kind of my girlfriend. I've been seeing her in secret, but now that the war is over, we aren't supposed to visit the other districts unless it is a matter of life or death, or unless we are very important or rich. I'm not rich. In fact, I am considered quite poor. I am certainly not important either. So there is hardly a chance.

My guess is they made that rule to aid in the prevention of another uprising, but I hate it. I remember reading in the history books about long, long ago when people everywhere traveled for fun. The visited other places in their country. They went on vacation out of the country. They had money to burn.

But now, there is no hope of that, unless you live in the Capitol. I hear that the citizens there are allowed to travel to where they want. I hear that some even venture outside of Panem. I wish I lived there.

Back to Damask. She is the most beautiful girl. She has long ginger-coloured hair and deep green eyes, and she is the nicest person I have ever met. She works in a clothing factory, though, and it's tough work for such a small girl. I have been trying to figure out a way to get her out of District Eight, and bring her here, where I can try to keep her fed, and keep her safe, for more reasons than just one.

The other reason I want to keep her safe and fed is because we sort of messed up. We accidentally fooled around too much in our relationship, and now she is carrying my child.

After I think of Damask, I think of my family. Isn't it strange how the poorer families always have more children? I am the oldest of six children in my family, and I have been working extra hard to keep us all fed. My father works double shifts at the water purification plant, and I have been working there, too, since I was ten years old. I lug around heavy containers of water to load them into large boxes so that they can be sent all over Panem. My mother does odd jobs, and three of my siblings are old enough to work at the plant, also. But even with all that income, somehow there's never enough coming in to support us all.

A voice breaks into my thoughts. It's my father, come to say goodbye to me. Behind him is the rest of my family. I give them each a hug. So many people talking at once, and I can barely remember a word that was said. It's a whirlwind of conversation until they are forced to leave, and I find myself staring at a handful of wildflowers left in my hand by the two youngest children. There are a bunch of random small flowers, but there is a single pink carnation that catches my eye. I wonder where they got it. Usually they are grown in gardens, but there are few people who garden these days. But still, I smile at the carnation. Especially because it's pink, it's a little bit ironic. I don't think they know what it means.

I keep hoping that someone else will come to say goodbye, but no one else does, and I am left to worry about Damask. She doesn't yet know that I have been reaped, and she probably won't hear of it until I am on Television. What a horrible thing to have happen to you: to not even know that the one you love is being sent to his death until you see it and it is too late.

And now I know. I know that I can stop at nothing to come home. If I win, the prize money will be enough to bring her to District Six, to keep her safe. If I lose, she will be devastated, and I'm afraid she is so weak that that would be enough to make her lose our child. I will fight to my last breath. I must come home.

* * *

**Cirstea:**

People's love for someone only extends for so much. I must admit, I am quite popular around the district, but none of my friends come to say goodbye. My family, however, comes, and they actually show some emotion for a change!

My mother has begun to cry, and my father is tearing up. My brother's voice cracks when he speaks to me.

"Please come home," he says.

"I'll try," I say.

Then they surprise me once again. They break even more out of their proper, serious shells and give me a hug each. I can't help but smile, and my mother gasps.

"Why are you smiling? This is far from a happy situation!" she says.

"I'm sorry . . . It's just . . . It's so strange to get a hug from you," I reply, wiping the smile off of my face. My mother gives an indignant sniff, her tears forgotten, and their shows of emotion are over. They leave in the same way they would leave our home in the morning to go to the plant. No emotion. Nothing. And that is possibly the last I will ever see of them.


	9. District Seven Reapings

_**Alright, y'all, I am really really sorry for the slow update. And I'm really really sorry to have to say it will probably happen again. Because I just started grade ten, and I have a TON of homework, and my mom won't let me write until I'm done it each day**__**. But I will**_**_ try my best!

* * *

_**

**Serina Heartwood:**

_"You're such an ungrateful little brat!" Lotus slapped me in the face. My hand flew up to where she had hit me. It stung, and she got me in the eye, making me tear up. I wiped away the tears quickly, trying not to show weakness._

_"Why did you have to come here?" I asked boldly. "I hate you."_

_"Yes, but your little daddy had nowhere else to turn. And I can do whatever I want to you, because if you tell him, he'll divorce me, and you'll have to go back to cutting wood to try to get enough money for the medicine to keep him alive. And then you won't be able to work fast enough or hard enough as he gets worse, and your poor little daddy will die, and you'll be left all alone . . ." As she said this, she pulled one of the kitchen knives from the rack on the counter beside her and toyed with it dangerously, touching the tip of her finger to the point on the end. Then she pointed it at me and took a step forwards. I gasped and took a step back._

_She continued taking steps towards me until I was backed all the way into a corner. I had nowhere to go. No one else was in the house, and I was too scared to scream._

_"You aren't going to tell your daddy about this, are you?" Lotus asked. "Because you love him too much, and you know that he needs me to survive."_

_Then she grabbed my left arm and cut a deep gash along my wrist. I stubbornly bit my tongue to keep from crying._

_Lotus turned away from me and went to wash the knife in the kitchen sink and calmly put it back in it's place. Then she walked outside without even turning back to see my face._

_I slid down the wall to sit on the kitchen floor, and I cried. I held my wrist tightly, and then I realized that the blood was going to stain my clothing and get on the floor. My father would see. _

_I bandaged it up tightly, and covered the bandage with a pretty strip of blue cloth, to make it look like I was just wearing it as a fashion statement. And then I went up to my room and cried some more._

That wasn't the first time, but it was the worst of it. Ever since my dad was forced to marry Lotus for her money, she has been beating me, always careful to hurt me in places that would be unseen by my father. But sometimes, she cuts my arms, and I have to do a lot of work to hide the scars. Sometimes they're not deep enough to make a difference. My dad just thinks they are the same as the scars I got from cutting wood. But the new cut is very large, and very noticeable.

That particular time was several months ago. Now the wound is closed, and becoming a scar. But I still have to wear the blue cloth, to hide it.

She was right. I can't tell my father. Because my mother got tired of supporting us, and left, and, as much as I truly hate to admit it, Lotus is my father's only hope for survival. If I make my father divorce her, he _will_ die. I have no choice.

"Serina, it's time to go," says my father. He has kind eyes and a smile that always makes me want to smile back. I love him.

He is exempt from going to the reaping, but he will go anyways. Lotus is going to take him in a wheelchair, because he is still too weak to walk on his own, though he is getting better.

And there's Lotus now. She has red hair, with an odd mix of blonde and black streaks throughout. I don't know why she would dye it like that. It looks strange. She makes a nasty face at me, but then turns on the charm for my father, and we are out the door.

I'm happy when we arrive. I get to be separated from her. But then I think about what could happen if I am reaped, and I don't want to leave my father alone with her.

It's too late. I am already lined up with the girls my age, and President Shingle is already pulling out a slip of paper from the draw.

"Serina Heartwood," he says.

I gasp.

* * *

**Ash Torenn:**

I guess I have a confession to make. The first thing I think of when I see the girl called Serina take the stage isn't, "Oh, poor girl," it's actually, "Whoa, pretty girl!"

And she really is. She has bright blue eyes and long brown hair that must have been highlighted by the sun. She's slender, but muscular, as if she has been doing a man's work: cutting trees. Her face is sweet and innocent-looking, and it reminds me of expensive things; like roses and tea and fresh-baked cookies; however, her eyes have a hardness to them, like she has seen horrible things and she can never be the same. It nearly destroys the innocent look. Still, she is beautiful, and I begin to find the world around me fading away until it is just she and I.

Then I hear my name, and harsh reality replaces my reverie. I am going to the Games along with her.

Of course, there are no volunteers. Not that I expected there to be. I have a feeling they are extremely hard to come by, even in the other districts.

The sad thing is, I had so much to live for. So much. I have an amazing family, the best grandparents in the whole world, and we've always had enough food on the table. Sure, maybe I'm too shy to make very many friends, and I never get very close to people, but my older brother and sister are my best friends in the whole world.

And now it could all be taken away from me.

They don't all come at once to say goodbye. There's a set time for visits, and they want to get as much time as possible. Mom and Dad come first, of course.

"Oh, Honey . . ." says Mom. Then she begins to cry. I stand up and give her a hug, letting her tears fall onto my shoulder.

"Ash, you have to stay strong, and come back to us. You have to try your best," says Dad. Then he mouths, _especially for your mother_.

"I will," I say. Then he pulls my mother away from me so he can give me a hug. But as soon as he lets go, Mom hugs me again, really tightly, and when a Peacekeeper arrives to escort them away, she has to be pried away from me, kicking and screeching.

Hock and Wrasse enter next. Hock is eighteen and Wrasse is twenty. She is going to be married in a month to a man named Coren. I like him very much. He is a little shy, like me, and we get along perfectly. Yet another thing I will probably never see.

Hock and Wrasse are all hugs just like my parents were. We've never needed many words, especially since they are as shy as I am. We understand each other perfectly.

Hock is wearing a fake smile as he gives me his lucky coin. It's just a regular coin, except instead of the regular design on the back, it is an engraved image of the earth as it used to be, before almost all of it was underwater. It is rare, and he has had it for a long time.

"Take it, as your token," he says.

"What if I lose it?" I ask. He shrugs.

"If you lose it, you lose it. It's yours now."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he says. He and Wrasse say goodbye as they are led away.

Finally, my grandparents come in. They are both quite old, but neither of them wears glasses or has trouble walking. They are the ones with whom I played all sorts of games with as a child. We would lie in the grass and find shapes in the clouds, play catch with a homemade ball. I have always felt extremely comfortable around them.

"Ash, we just want you to know how very proud of you we are. If you don't make it back, we will always remember you as the innocent, sweet little boy you are, not the one who is forced to kill others in order to try to survive," says my grandmother.

"Thank you," I say, nearly wanting to smile. My grandparents have that effect, they always make those around them feel like smiling.

"We love you, Ash. I believe that you can come home. I truly believe it. You are strong, and if you set your mind to anything, you can do it," says my grandfather. They both give me a hug, and they are ushered out seemingly faster than my parents and siblings were.

* * *

**Serina:**

After I got past the initial shock of being chosen, I was able to get a good look at the boy tribute. And he is good looking, I mean, _really_ good looking. It's impossible to explain why, but he resembles the majority of the people of my district, with reddish-brown hair and green eyes. He causes me to temporarily take my mind off of what is to come.

But before I have a chance to try to make conversation with him, we are sent off to separate rooms to say goodbye to our loved ones. I sit down in a rich, beautiful room on a red velvet couch, and await my visitors.

It is no surprise when my father shows up, pushed by none other than Lotus. He smiles reassuringly at me, and Lotus behind him gives me a sly grin accompanied by a glare in her eyes. I can't return the nasty look, because my father is watching, but I can tell she is gloating about having me out of the picture.

I rise and give my father an awkward hug, and his eyes begin to tear up.

"I just want you to know," he begins, "that I am proud of you, and I am grateful for what you have done and have put up with for me." He glances at my scars, furrowing his brow, and then I think maybe, just maybe, he knows about Lotus, and he just hasn't done anything about it because he knows I don't want him to.

"Thanks, and you are _so_ welcome. I wouldn't have it any other way," I say. And then I know he understands, because he relaxes completely, and the small smile returns.

A Peacekeeper appears and beckons them out. _I hope you die_, mouths Lotus over her shoulder as she leaves. I don't have time to mouth anything back before she leaves.

Then I have a surprise visitor. It is my real mother, Terra, whom I have only seen once since she abandoned us for a more well-off man when I was eleven. She is beautiful, and she has kind eyes, and I always loved her, but I resent her for leaving us in the worst possible time. But, as this could be the last time I will ever see her, I decide to give her a chance. I think I've known all along that I would forgive her someday, and if I'm going to die soon, I might as well do it now.

She comes and awkwardly sits down beside me on the couch.

"You know I love you, right?" she asks.

"I think so," I say.

"Well, I do. And I didn't want to leave you or your father. I was struggling, you know, and it was a lot of pressure. I regret it now."

"But you can't do anything about it, because then you'll have to abandon your other family."

"Well, yes . . ." she says. We sit in silence for a while.

"I . . . I forgive you," I say finally. She relaxes in very much the same way my father did earlier.

"Um . . ." she begins, "I don't know if you already have a token, but . . ."

"Not really," I say when her voice trails off. She pulls a folded up strip of fabric from a pocket in her jacket. It is evergreen-coloured silk, with a dark green embroidered tree in one corner of it. I smile.

"It's perfect," I say. I remove the blue cloth that covers up my scar, to replace it, and Terra gasps, but then she regains her composure and helps me tie her fabric in its place.

And after what seems like the longer visit, she is escorted away, leaving me alone until I am to be taken away and loaded on a train to the Capitol.


	10. District Eight Reapings

_**I'm SO SORRY! I didn't mean to not write for so long... Life gets in the way. I'll try to write quicker next time. But here you are :)**_

* * *

**Tanaly "Tana" Valban:**

It's unfair. Ferra has curves, and she actually _looks_ fifteen.

Ferra is my twin sister, but she doesn't look it. Her brown hair is straight, and always perfectly in place, rather than frizzy and wavy like mine, she has green eyes while I have boring brown, and she never gets mistaken for a twelve or thirteen-year-old. Plus, she can see colour out of both eyes. I'm colour blind in my left eye.

She was born only seventeen minutes before I, but everything about her looks and body is better than me. She is always perfectly healthy and I get sick all the time. She has never had lice, but I get them nearly every year. And then there's our personalities. She's a perfectionist, and I am naturally sloppy. I am a klutz, and I lose things all the time, while she never slips up and has never lost or forgotten anything pretty much in her entire life. She never gets angry, and I explode at the smallest things. How can we be so different?

You could say I'm the unfortunate twin. Well, really, I _am_ the unfortunate twin. But even still, Ferra and I are best friends. I try not to be too jealous of her, because she doesn't mean to be better than me. She's too sweet to purposely try to be better than anyone. And she and I have a responsibility to be the "mothers" to our little brother, Arro.

You see, our father died several years ago from an unknown illness that killed many in our district. Some think it was a cruel trick of the war: the Capitol sending a super disease to kill off an eighth of the people here. But whatever it was, it had a great impact. Many people are permanently insane because they had it, but survived.

But what about our mother? Well, she got the disease before he did, but only mildly. She healed before he was even sick, but she wasn't right in the head. And when he died, she sank into a state of depression, somehow got her hands on a gun, and shot herself.

I don't sound very upset about that, do I? Well, I really can't be. If I dwell on it, I'll think of nothing else, and Ferra and I won't be able to support Arro.

But we don't live alone. We live with our grandmother, who has a disease called Alzheimer's that is slowly forcing her memories out of her. Soon, she won't even recognize me. I don't know what we'll do then.

During the day, Ferra, Arro and I all work in a clothing factory that makes expensive vintage clothing. We make whatever is in fashion in the Capitol. One of the items that always comes back is called "blue jeans." Blue jeans are extremely old fashioned. In history class, I learned that once they were the longest running clothing style ever. They stayed in style for over five-hundred years! Now they come in and out of style whenever vintage clothing does. But the indigo dye that is used to make them is really expensive, making jeans only available for the richest of the Capitol. You see, because jeans were in style for so long, the plant that the dye comes from almost became extinct. Well, when they were first invented they used the plant's dye, then they used synthetic dye, but when the synthetic dye became too expensive, they went back to the plant. And _then_ it became endangered.

But even though the clothing we make is so expensive, we get payed as little as the people who work in factories that produce clothing for regular people. It's awful, really. But we also get a little money from our friend, Kaylin, who's family is middle class. She is wealthy compared to us.

Our friend Finch, on the other hand, is far more poor than we are. His family is made up of twelve members, and they own a repair shop, but they don't get much business because of the larger repair shop a few blocks away from theirs.

Finch and Kaylin are at the door now, calling to us. It is time to go to the reaping.

Fear fills me. Ferra and I have an agreement: if one of us is reaped, we cannot volunteer. But it would spell disaster if either of us were to die in the Games.

When we reach the square, I see a familiar face. Damask, a girl who works in the same factory as me, waves through the crowd. She gets sick often from the poor working conditions, so she is often stuck at home. And no matter how hard she tries, she cannot hide the fact that she is nearly nine months pregnant.

Ferra and I are the only ones who know the true story. Before the Capitol obliterated Thirteen and made it a law that commoners couldn't travel outside their district without a viable reason, a young man was constantly visiting her from District Six. It was a secret, but Ferra and I saw him a few times, and she couldn't lie to us about it. We had already seen him. Anyways, every time he was around, she was constantly smiling. And then came the day the Capitol won. All she did was cry, for days. And that was when she told us what they had done.

He's been trying to get her to District Six for a long time. He's been sending her coded letters. Plotting. But none of their plans have been successful thus far.

As she lines up along with other seventeen-year-old girls, Ferra and I are herded to the fourteen-year-old section. Ferra grips my hand tightly. We whisper to each other until a hush falls over the crowd and we realize that it is time for the girl tribute to be reaped.

And suddenly, my world is changed forever.

* * *

**Peri Wilcox:**

Being reaped is a horrible thing.

Imagine, right before your name is called, your heart is as loud as thunder, your fingers crossed, holding your breath. It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You dig your nails into your palm until you're sure you've drawn blood. And when your name is called, everyone around you turns to look at you. You have to be nudged by the person beside you in order to wake you up and get you to move towards the stage. People part like the Red Sea to let you pass, never taking their eyes off you. That's the worst part—thousands of pairs of eyes watch your every move, turning their heads as one to follow you as if they were programmed robots or clones. Then, after what seems like a million long steps, after your legs have turned to jelly, and your knees threaten to fail you, you reach the stage and climb the steep steps to join President Shingle.

Everyone is still staring.

President Shingle grabs my hand before I can stop him, and he gives it a firm shake. I pull my hand back as if it was burned. And then I count the long seconds until I'm allowed to leave the stage. One . . . Two . . . Four . . . Eight . . . Twenty . . . Sixty . . . One-hundred . . . Two-hundred . . .

I've lost count.

Finally, the president seems to have finished speaking, and I am led away by a couple Peacekeepers.

"Hey," says the girl beside me, the female tribute from my district that I hadn't even noticed until now.

"Hey," I reply, and look away. I'm not in the mood to make any conversation.

A long section of time passes that I am unaware of because I was lost in my thoughts. The next thing I know, I am in a room by myself, and my mother is being ushered in, carrying her new baby in her arms. I used to be an only child, until she came along. She was born last week. My father comes in behind her.

I hold out my arms to take the tiny little thing. She is wrapped in a pink blanket, and she cannot be more than a foot in length. I trace the creases of her tiny pink face with my index finger as my father begins to speak.

"Well, son . . . Go get 'em."

"What?" I ask, confused.

"Go get 'em," he repeats.

"You mean . . . Kill them?" I ask.

"Well, that's the only way you can come home, right?" my mother puts in.

"Come on, Peri, I know you can do it," says my dad.

"What, kill that little girl who was reaped? Kill other children? I'm going to be one of the oldest there! How can I kill anyone younger than me? It's not right!"

"It's not like any of them will be innocent. Everyone will be killing each other, even the twelve-year-olds!" puts in my mother.

"Maybe, but that doesn't give them the right to. And it doesn't give me the right to, either."

"This conversation is over. You _will_ kill, and you _will_ win because of it."

I shut up, then. If I knew one thing, I knew that it was a bad idea to reopen a conversation once my dad had closed it. A very bad idea.

I plant a quick kiss on my baby sister's forehead before everyone is taken away.

Several other friends come in, but I am too preoccupied to remember much of their visits. How could my life go from being good, with the birth of a brand-new sister, to bad, with the huge chance of my _death_?

* * *

**Tana:**

Ferra and Arro lead Grandma in. They each give me a hug, and Ferra begins to cry. I wipe away her tears with my sleeve and tell her to stop. It's not yet time for tears.

"Arro, you be good for Ferra and Grandma, okay?" I say. He nods, and hugs me again. And then the four of us talk a little about what I want them to do if I don't come back, because I know that there's a big chance that I won't make it.

Soon enough, they are taken out, and someone else enters. It's Damask. And she's crying.

"Tana . . . I just heard. They gave an updated list of who has been reaped so far. And Carbon . . ." She starts crying even harder.

"Carbon . . . Carbon has been _reaped_?" I ask, my eyes widening. She nods through tears. "I'm so sorry, Damask! That's _horrible_!" I let her cry into my shoulder.

We sit like that for a long time. My shoulder is soaked with her tears. I stroke her back soothingly.

"I'll talk to him for you," I say as she cries. "I'll tell him I know you. Anything you want me to tell him." She looks up.

"Tell him . . . Tell him I love him. Tell him I'm doing fine, and the baby is fine, and I miss him. Tell him to come back!" I don't even care that she wants him to come back more than she wants me to. She loves him so much. Even _I_ would tell him to kill me so he could go back to her, if only for the baby.

"I'll tell him," I say. Then she is removed from the room, and I am left alone with only the horrible sinking feeling in my stomach that has been brought on by the thoughts of what awaits me.


	11. District Nine Reapings

**Levia Rosscoe:**

I remember this morning, waking up and feeling the sun streaming through the window on my face, and thinking it would be a good day. I looked out the window and saw white fluffy clouds. But by the time I went outside, there were dark storm clouds taking the place of the pretty white ones, and beginning to cover the sun. It came on so quickly, it was as if it was a sign. And that was when I was reminded about the reaping.

Suddenly, I was in a frenzy, trying to get everyone ready. We all put on pretty dresses and did our hair up special, and then got ready to walk to the square.

I have to admit, I'm a little frightened. At sixteen, I'm the only one in my family who is within the reaping age; my older sister, Cora, is three years older than me, and she has barely escaped inclusion in the reaping. Her birthday was just twelve days ago. My other sister, Mikki, is ten, and has only two years before she will be included in this horrible event.

It was a long walk to get here. I had to come from nearly an hour away, only to stand here for who knows how long. My legs are really tired.

I can barely breathe. The square in front of District Nine's Justice Building is so packed, I probably couldn't move anywhere if I tried.

President Shingle is standing above everyone. He makes a long speech and then moves towards a huge glass ball. And I know he is grinning when he pulls out a name and reads it. It is mine.

* * *

**Mark Vires:**

I look around at the crowd through my dirty blond hair. It almost comes to my shoulders, and it covers my eyes. I like it that way. I prefer not to be seen. And I don't need to be. I don't have many friends. Or any, really.

My only close friend ever was Zach, but he died in the war against the Capitol. He was seventeen, a year older than me, and he signed up to fight with the rebels because of a grudge he held against the people of the Capitol. He hated them.

Before he left, he entrusted me with his wristband. It's black and red, made of tightly woven fabric, and it fits snugly on my left wrist. I never thought I would call it my own. I expected to give it back to him when he returned. But he never did.

So here I am, friendless, and with a wristband I never intended to own. Unfortunate, but I'll deal with it.

Thousands of boys around my age are crowded all around me. I'm short, so I can't see. I can't hear either, because thousands of voices are buzzing around me. It smells weird, and I can't really breathe, even though we're outside.

The president is up there. I can't see him, but I can hear his sickening voice droning on. I hate him for having a part in Zach's death. He's just standing up there, talking to a skinny girl with red hair and freckles. I saw her go by when her name was announced.

A hush falls over the crowd, and I can tell that it's time for the president to reap the male tribute. He talks louder, and I can actually make out the words.

"Mark Vires," he says.

My name. I realize I'm supposed to go up, but I don't want to. I walk slowly, and the crowd parts for me.

Eventually, I'm led to a room where I'm supposed to wait for visitors to say their final goodbyes, but I know no one will come. My mom and dad, though they were forced to come to the reaping, are drunk, and probably don't even realize what has happened. They don't even know I'm here.

It would be easier if I had a friend.

* * *

**Levia:**

The doors to this large room will only open and close twice. I only have one set of visitors.

Of course, I'm to blame for not having any close friends. It's in my nature to be bossy and aggressive. I naturally repel people wherever I go. The only people who have stuck by my side are the members of my family, who enter now.

Cora and Mikki walk in, followed by my mother, Zia. She is bawling, and I don't blame her. She has been weak since my father left her for another woman.

Both my sisters are trying not to cry as well, and as a result, they can't talk. It will only bring tears. So I try to talk to fill the space.

"Mom, you have to work hard to make sure that everyone gets enough food. And obviously, Cora, you have to help her. Mikki, you can do a lot, too. You have to obey them, and help with the house work and cooking the food." I drone on and on about what they need to do, but it's all for nothing. I'm telling them what they already know.

How did the time pass so quickly? Suddenly, they're gone.

If it weren't for the fact that I am certain this room is being monitored, I would cry right now. But I refuse to show weakness.

I will surely cry tonight, though.


	12. AUTHORS NOTE: EXTREMELY IMPORTANT!

_HEY, GUYS! I'm really really really sorry. I haven't updated in over a month!_

_I have a big question for y'all. Do you mind if I skip the rest of the introductions for now? __They are taking so long, and it's getting really difficult to make sure each one is different. I promise I'll update MUCH more often if I go straight into the exciting parts. _

_I swear__ I won't skip them entirely! I will return to them eventually! And I will spend extra time in the POV's of the characters I've skipped at the beginning so you can still get to know them. Please let me know what you think.**

* * *

**_

**Also, and this is extremely, extremely important, I would like to officially start the voting right after the interviews. So after the interview chapter, post a review to tell me who you want to win. I don't have enough bloodbath tributes, and I have to decide who to eliminate._

* * *

_**

**_IMPORTANT "SPONSORING" RULES!_**

_**1. **_**You may vote even if you were not one of the people to submit a tribute.**

_**2. **_**In order for your vote to count, it must be posted as a review.**

**_3. _If you WERE one of the people who submitted a tribute, you MUST NOT vote for your tribute. This will eliminate the possibility of not having a fair vote.**

**_4. _You may only vote for one tribute per chapter.**

**_5. _If you wish, you may also submit an idea for a parachute gift for your favourite tribute. If a tribute has more than five votes (this number will increase to ten, and then twenty when the number of tributes decreases to eight, and then four), I will choose one of the suggested gifts and send it to the tribute :)

* * *

**

**_I HOPE YOU READ ALL OF THIS CAREFULLY!_**

Love ya'll :)

Micaela


	13. Getting Ready

**Melicia:**

It won't be long now. Not long before I meet the person who's going to make me look "presentable" for the cameras. My stylist. But first, I have to endure preparations. My stylist refuses to look at me until my prep team is finished with me. One of the two members of this team introduced herself as Inanna. She, in pursuit of some of the latest styles of the Capitol, has had golden swirls inlaid with purple gems tattooed on her face. Clio, the other woman, has similar tattoos, only in a more grid-like pattern, using green and silver. I have seen no one in the Capitol yet who's hair appears to be the same shade it was at birth, and this pair is no different. Clio's hair is a pure white, and Inanna's perfectly matches the purple gems on her face. Why can't they just leave their hair alone?

Clio's unusually long, green nails poke into my face as she uses tweezers to pluck out excess hair on my eyebrows. It's quite painful.

"You aren't that bad, you know . . ." Clio begins, "I got a glimpse of the tributes from District Twelve, and they were covered in hair! At least you take care of yourself, sweetheart."

"Yes," Inanna agrees as she brushes through my curly blonde hair. "I don't understand how they can live with themselves! They don't look like they've had a haircut since they were born, nevertheless thought to shave! Well, at least the boy doesn't have a full-on beard . . . Though he is stubbly enough, it looks like he hasn't shaved in days! I wonder if he cares he's on television."

I nod and smile, hoping they don't expect me to talk. Even though I'm from One, there's still a huge contrast between the riches of the Capitol and those of my District. Though District Twelve lives in poverty for real, we appear to have the same circumstances compared to the people of the Capitol, who are so rich they practically do nothing all day.

I adjust my robe across my chest. I don't like to be so exposed in front of people, but Inanna and Clio have forced me to take the robe off several times so they could remove hair from all corners of my body. They want me to look "immaculate," they say.

"There, you're done," Inanna proclaims happily in her thick Capitol accent.

"We'll go get your stylist!" Clio adds excitedly.

They're gone in no time, and the doors swing open again to reveal my stylist. My jaw drops.

"_Mom_?"

"Hello, Melicia." She puts on that warm smile of hers, and I can't help but smile back. I have a zillion questions for her, but I am speechless, and overjoyed to the point of tears. I haven't seen her for a year! I stand and give her a hug, but she stiffens.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing," she says quickly, then hugs me back.

"I've missed you," I say.

"I've missed you, too," she agrees, then adds, "let's get to it, then."

* * *

**Vicious:**

"Now that your makeup is done, I'll show you your outfit!" my stylist, Ailia, says. She proudly holds up an outfit that has been carefully arranged onto a clothes hanger. It's a Peacekeeper uniform.

For the first time, I am allowed to wear a Peacekeeper uniform. How long I have waited to feel the itchy fabric against my skin. And yet, this is the last way I ever wanted it to happen. Yes, it is my outfit for the opening ceremonies of the Games. And now it is nothing but a joke. Not a real uniform, with the graduation badge worn on the lapel, but a mock uniform probably not even made in the same factory that makes the real ones. I sigh.

Ailia gives me some last instructions and then leaves me to put on my outfit. When I have it on, I stand before a full-length mirror to check my reflection.

I see someone so unlike myself that even I am surprised. Ailia has brought out the vicious part of me, made me look like my name suggests. I look like I have a permanent glare, and my eyes appear to glow. I will have no trouble covering up any emotions tonight.

* * *

**Myeeka:**

"When you go out there, we want you to look happy. That means big smiles, and lots of waving," Larch, one of my stylists tells me as he pins my hair up.

"Exactly. And you can't just fake the smiles. You need to smile with your eyes. You're trying to win their hearts, remember," says Dahlia, my other stylist. They explained to me earlier that most tributes only get one stylist, but I was given two. Dahlia is really a stylist-in-training.

"Here, let me just finish her lips while you go get her dress," Larch tells Dahlia. She does so, and when he is done applying my lipstick, he joins her in presenting my outfit.

I stare at it in awe. It's a sleeveless dress that will fall to just above my knee when I put it on. It is in neon colours—bright orange, green, yellow, and pink—with hundreds of colourful buttons and switches covering it. Larch also holds a pair of green neon leggings in his left hand, and Dahlia has a headband of the same colour in her right.

"In the dark, it will look like you're glowing!" Dahlia squeals excitedly.

"You'll be the most beautiful girl there," Larch assures me.

"Thank you," I breathe. The dress is so beautiful, it's unreal. It's also kind of horrible, though. Wearing such a beautiful dress when I'm pretty much marching to my death seems awful. Like when a dead person wears makeup so she looks good in her coffin.

* * *

**Glade:**

How wonderful. I get to wear a fish costume in front of everyone in Panem.

My costume is a blue jumpsuit covered in shiny scales with fins sticking out of the sides and back. I will look ridiculous. And for what? _Nothing_.

* * *

**Belle:**

My stylist, Loraz, pulls my long hair back tightly. She twists each ringlet into a fancy up-do as I watch in the mirror. It looks beautiful so far. And so does my dress—a green gown that is covered in tiny little leaves, just like the plants I used to have to find in the woods of District 5.

A shudder runs through me. It seems like it's been years since I last hunted for a plant for medicine. And the horrible day when I will have to enter the Games seems so close.

"There, all done," Loraz says with a smile, after placing a wreath made of the same leaves as my dress onto my head.

I take another look at my unfamiliar face in the mirror. My green eyes seem to glow in contrast to the dark makeup that has been applied around them. My lips are a pale pink, and my cheeks rosy. I look sophisticated—the opposite of the way I usually look: childish and young for my age.

Once my dress is on, I put on a smile and look again in the mirror. But Loraz materializes behind me and tells me to stop smiling.

"You look too childish when you smile. Keep your face neutral and expressionless so you will look tougher and more likely to win. Remember, people aren't going to sponsor the cute little girl who they think is going to die in the first few minutes. They're looking for a tough girl who has a shot at becoming the victor."

I simply nod, and try my hardest to wipe the smile off my face. It doesn't work for a second, the edges of my lips want to stay curled up, but when I remember what is about to happen in the next few days, I suddenly feel the urge to cry.

"Show time," says Loraz when my face is blank.

* * *

**Carbon:**

"It's so . . . transparent!" I say worriedly.

My stylist is holding up my outfit for the opening ceremonies of the Games. It looks like a tuxedo, only entirely transparent. It appears to be made of rushing water.

"Don't worry, just put it on," he replies. I comply with uncertainty.

When I have put it on, I look in the full length mirror to my right. My stylist was right to tell me not to worry. The suit only looked transparent in his hands. Really, it covers my entire body while maintaining the appearance of transparency.

"Cool," I say.

He grins, then immediately frowns and reaches for my beard.

"I forgot. This will have to go," he says. "I'm not sure why your prep team didn't get rid of it earlier . . ."

"Can't I keep it?" I ask, not wanting to pat with my beard.

"No. It makes you look unsanitary," he replies, "and it goes against the whole point of your District's theme, water purification, to be pure and clean."

Oh well. I'm probably going to die soon anyways.

* * *

**Serina:**

"Here, hold this."

My stylist, Raya, is handing me a large axe. Fake, of course. It's part of my lumberjack costume. My dress is pretty much an over-sized plaid shirt that has been cinched at the waist. The sleeves are rolled up to reveal about a third of my arm, and the top two buttons are undone. The dress is worn over a pair of leggings that look exactly like old-fashioned blue jeans, only skin-tight. And for my shoes? Big, clunky steel-toed boots. The entire outfit is vintage. It's kind of cool, actually!

"Ready?" asks Raya.

"Not really," I reply truthfully, but I follow her out.

* * *

**Peri:**

"Ow! Ow!" I cry as my stylist, Lumina, uses tweezers to make my eyebrows look less bushy.

"It's alright, last one," she replies. I grit my teeth and try not to flinch as she removes another hair.

"You look presentable enough," Lumina says with a smile when she steps back to look at me. "Now you can put on your outfit!"

Lumina reveals a suit that looks to be made of random patches of fabric. I think it looks horrible, but I don't tell her. She holds it out to me, and I put it on quickly, then stand in front of the mirror she has provided. And I'm a little surprised to see it doesn't look bad on me! Sure, it looks a tiny bit ridiculous due to the absurd colour scheme, but it doesn't look half-bad, thanks to the fact that it fits like a glove.

I sigh, realizing that I am a little nervous. My father will be watching me, and he'll be wanting me to look angry, annoyed, maybe even anxious to get into the arena and do some killing. He'll want me to look strong and vicious. Proud. But I am none of those things. I don't want to let him down, but I don't want to change myself just for the cameras . . .

* * *

**Levia:**

I don't want to be rude, but I let out a guffaw.

"I have to wear _that_?"

Maroon, my stylist, only nods as she hands me my costume. It's a full body suit covered in fox fur. She also hands me a headband with fox ears attached.

"It wasn't my idea," she promises.

I have to admit, once I have it on, it doesn't look half bad. The fox fur matches the colour of my hair. The ears are a bit much, though.

To finish it off, Maroon paints a black fox nose over my own nose. It looks strange and costume-like, but I can't say no. If he thinks this costume will attract sponsors, I'm wearing it. I'm going to need all the sponsors I can get.

* * *

**Lyle:**

"How am I supposed to work with this?" my stylist cries when she sees my wheelchair. I hang my head.

"I'm sorry," she sighs. "I'm Flynn. And we'll work through this. Do you think we can get this on you?" Flynn gestures to a costume made up of a tree trunk and a huge mess of leaves at the top. I nod.

Flynn lets out another sigh. "Well, I'd guess we'd better start, then . . ."

She quickly applies a layer of makeup onto my face, explaining that it's only to keep reflection from ruining the videos and photos people will be taking.

Not long after, she wheels me in front of a full length mirror. My tree costume looks strange on me. I look more like a small shrub than the tall, proud tree look I'm sure Flynn was going for. Oh well. It's not like I can help it.

* * *

**Reena (Zero):**

"Alright, so let me just show you how you wear it," says Xaina, my stylist. She is holding up what appears to be a long string of vines in her hand. She takes a step towards me and begins to wrap it around my body, which is otherwise unclothed. She winds the vines strategically so they cover up the most part of my body, and drapes longer vines around my legs to make it look almost like a dress.

When I glance in the mirror, I make a face. I don't enjoy being so exposed, especially not for everyone in Panem to see. But I have no choice in the matter. But then I stop and stare, awed, at my reflection. My face, which normally looks childlike and sweet, looks more sharp and angry with just a layer of makeup. My choppy, short brown hair has been made to look longer and more sophisticated. I can't help but smile.

"Look good?" Xaina asks. I nod in reply. "Well, you're ready, then," she says.

* * *

**Dag:**

"It's a coal miner outfit! Pretty brilliant, right?" asks my stylist, showing off the costume I have just put on.

"I guess . . ." I reply. I'm too busy looking at myself in the mirror. My grey eyes are almost hidden under the coal-dust-resembling makeup that has been applied to my face in random patches. My sandy blond hair looks like it's been dusted with dirt. With the dirty coal-miner's clothing I am wearing, I look like I've just stepped out of the coal mines after a long day of hard work. It makes me think of home.

Then I remember. I'm far from home, and I most likely won't be returning there.


	14. Training

**Daunté:**

The butterflies in my stomach disappear as soon as I see her.

The girl has long, curly brown hair, and is wearing it in a ponytail. She has bright green eyes that stand out from the rest of her face, and her cheeks are rosy. And she's beautiful. I _have_ to introduce myself.

She is standing next to the other tribute from her district, who is trying to teach her how to aim a bow so the arrow will land in the target. When she tries, her arrow flies too high and bounces off the wall behind the target. She frowns, and tugs her hair free so it hangs loosely around her shoulders. When she misses the target with her next arrow as well, I get up the courage to walk over to her.

"Hi, I'm Daunté," I say, and extend my hand to shake.

"Myeeka," she says in reply, and takes my hand. She smiles a warm smile with her eyes, and dimples appear on the sides of her cheeks. "This is Toggle," she says, introducing the male tribute from her district. He also shakes my hand.

I suddenly have an urge to find an excuse and hide my interest. "I'm just trying to meet as many people as I can," I explain lamely.

"Making alliances? That's smart! We hadn't thought of that," Myeeka says. "Mind if we copy you?"

"Be my guest!" I reply, glad she is helping my excuse sound more legitimate. Then, not wanting to make it look like I'm purposely staying with them, I look for the first station I can see. "I'm going to go over to the fire building section."

"Oh, we'll come with you," Myeeka says brightly. "We aren't really getting anywhere here . . ."

"You go ahead," says Toggle, "I need to practice with some weapons if I'm going to protect you." I detect a little annoyance in his voice, but I brush it off.

"Come on," Myeeka says, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the other station. I think I feel invisible sparks where her hand touches mine.

* * *

**Xena:**

I head straight for the weapons when I enter the training room. Unfortunately, Vicious follows me. I don't want to be near him. I don't want to make friends. I want to kill him. He's one of the biggest competitions I'm up against.

When I get there, I test out a sword on a training dummy. I can't seem to get a feel for it, so I take a knife and practice throwing it accurately. It works quite well, and when I feel I've mastered it, I test out a spear in the same way. I think throwing weapons are my best bets in the Games.

Vicious keeps trying to talk to me, but I ignore each attempt. I keep my thoughts to myself, especially when I see him throwing a knife all wrong. I can't afford to give him any tips, or he could become a better fighter than I. And that would be my ruin.

* * *

**Toggle:**

Daunté is already not my favourite person. He seems too interested in Myeeka, and if she gets attached to him, I'll have a hard time helping her win.

When she finally returns from the knotting station, she's alone.

"Didn't go well with Daunté?" I ask.

"Of course it did!" she says happily. "And if you're okay with it, he and I have decided that we should become allies. I think he'll make an excellent ally. He's great at building fires, and he taught me a few things. We can definitely use his skills!"

"Oh. Well . . ." I consider it. I almost say no, but then I think better of it. I would rather see Myeeka happy than turn him away. Besides, she's right. If he has skills, we can use them to help her win, and then we can lose him when we know how to use everything he knows. "Sure," I agree finally.

"Yay!" Myeeka says childishly, clapping her hands together.

"Yeah, yeah, now let's go learn something else," I say, leading her towards another station.

* * *

**Adena:**

I can already see that Glade, the other tribute from my district, is going to be no help at all. He barely talks, and when he does, he is completely pessimistic and boring. Even now, in the training room, all he is doing is sitting in a corner. I sigh. I'm just going to have to find someone else to ally with.

My eyes fall on a pair who are standing at the knot tying station. Knot tying—just my thing! I decide to head over and introduce myself.

"Hey, I'm Adena," I say. They tell me their names are Serina and Ash.

I jump right in and start showing off, tying knots with expert speed. They stare with awed expressions.

Soon, I get bored of this, and decide to teach them a few things. Serina is a fast learner, but Ash can't seem to get his fingers to manipulate the rope properly. He seems to be really shy, as he hasn't said a word since we met. Finally, we all give up, and head over to another station. There, we meet a girl named Levia. She is trying desperately to distinguish between two similar looking plants, one of which has healing properties, and one of which is fatally poisonous. I can't seem to figure it out either. I can see that I will have a lot to learn about plants if I am to survive in the Games . . .

Luckily, Ash is good at memorizing the differences between the plants. I begin to think maybe I should ally with them. It could be a good strategy.

* * *

**Simon:**

Belle and I could have passed the edible plants test blindfolded, just as we could with the medicinal plants test. But when it comes to building a fire, neither of us can even get a spark. After many tries, I give up and tell Belle I'm heading to try out some weapons. I'll find someone else who can make a fire to ally with, if I need to.

I reach a weapons rack and pick up a sword. It's about three feet long, and it's heavy.

"Know what you're doing?" The voice of the trainer comes from behind me. I turn quickly, and almost hit the sword against the weapons rack.

"Whoops . . ." I say sheepishly.

"Obviously, you don't," he replies. He then tries to teach me how to attack and defend using the sword, but I have no luck with it. After trying several different weapons, I decide that I am no good with them. Looks like I'll have to find an ally who can build fires _and_ is also good with weapons.

* * *

**Cirstea:**

I rival the tributes from District Four in my knot tying skills. I also seem to have a knack for making traps. But for everything I'm good at, there seem to be two more things I could not do to save my life. Which, ironically, is what will probably happen. Luckily, it is time for lunch, so I can take a break from finding new skills I do not possess.

"Good bread?" I ask Carbon, the other tribute from my district. He harrumphs and looks away. _Okayyyy_ . . .

I glance around the room at the other tributes. Mostly, they are sitting within their districts. But a few groups seem to be mingling together. Some tributes from One and Three are together. And on the other side of the room, the female tribute from Four has joined the tributes from Seven. Suddenly I feel alone. Carbon doesn't seem to like me at all, and I've made no new friends. Alliances will probably be key in the Arena, and I realize that instead of working so hard on my skills, I should be making friends with people who have the skills I don't have.

I sigh, and decide to focus on that for the second half of the day.

* * *

**Ash:**

Serina and I are joined by Adena for lunch. She's got many skills which could be valuable in the Arena, and I think we'll probably ally with her for part of the Games.

The lunch is good, made up of hearty bread and customized with District-specific dishes to make each tribute feel at home. I eat my fill and find myself wanting more, even though I'm sure I couldn't eat another bite. Serina feels the same, I can tell. She stares longingly at her empty plate, no doubt filled with distant memories of home. She looks really pretty with that look on her face, as she always does, and I want to say something to her, but the words stick in my throat. If only I weren't so shy . . .

Minutes later, training begins again, and I start to feel the familiar feeling of being stuck in a shell. No words will come out of my mouth. It's almost like being sick: the feeling of being trapped within your own head, with pressure on your forehead, in your sinuses, a burning in your throat that brings tears to your eyes. Being so shy can be claustrophobic sometimes.

From inside my shell, I stare out at Serina, who is smiling back at me. "Are you coming?" she asks, and I realize I've stopped halfway to the station we had been travelling to. I nod and follow her, feeling a little less trapped simply from seeing her smile.

* * *

**Tana:**

My eyes have been following Carbon around the training room all day. I want to go give him Damask's message, but I think better of it. I want to other tributes to think my strategy is to stay solo. In fact, I refuse to even look at the other tribute from my district, Peri. It's easy enough. Peri seems to be trying to look alone as well.

That never started out as my strategy. At first, I was trying to become friends with Peri. It could have been helpful. But when he kept his distance, I began to do the same, and then started to realize the effect of this strategy. If I stayed away from all of the tributes during training, I would be able to follow them around, learn their tricks, maybe even ally once or twice in the Arena, and no one would think anything of it. I want to go unremembered among the tributes.

Without warning, my thoughts shift, and suddenly my sister has crept into my mind.

Ferra and I have an uncanny ability to know what the other is thinking. So when we are apart, we feel as if we are missing a part of ourselves. And I feel that pain right now, as I imagine how she must be feeling back home. She has always been weaker, more delicate, and she has probably cried more often than I have in the past few days. She and I have gone through the same pain at night, as well. We've always shared a room, and we used to spend hours at night just talking to each other. Being alone is a new feeling, and neither of us could have been prepared for it.

Eventually, I begin to think of Arro and Grandma. I wonder how they're holding up. I wonder if Ferra is still able to support them. I wonder how long it will be until the money runs out. And then, I have to suppress the urge to cry. I can't afford to look weak in front of the other tributes. They'll pick the weak ones off first, before the real fun begins.

* * *

**Mark****:**

I'm already tired. I'm tired of trying to disguise myself with strange plant dyes. I'm tired of punching the large training dummies, and tired of going at them with knives and other weapons that I don't even know the names of, much less how to properly use them. I'm tired of guessing which plants are harmful. I'm tired of everything. I can't seem to do anything but think of Zach. And it tires me.

Only a little bit of training left. I can last it. But then there's tomorrow . . .

"Hey!" comes a small voice from behind me.

I turn and see the little girl from District Ten with a smile on her face. She's cute, with her sleek brown hair, dark green eyes and button nose. But I simply hide my eyes behind my hair and turn away, with a quiet, "Hey."

She follows me around for the rest of training, and I start to wonder what her problem is. I usually have an air of intimidation. I don't understand how she could see past it, especially since she is so small. I am very tall, and just that should be intimidating for a girl who is not much over half my size. I begin to be scared for her. If she looks to be with the dangerous ones, maybe she's just trying to get killed right away. I can't have that. She's too little and defenceless.

Slowly I realize she's growing on me. Maybe I _will_ have an ally in the Games.

* * *

**Safita:**

I've followed Mark around since lunch ended. I can see something in him that no one else seems to be able to. I see how sad he looks when he stares at his token. When his hair flops out of his face for a split second, I see the pain in his eyes. I know what he's doing. He's been hurt, and probably blames himself. He doesn't want to get close to anyone, for fear of hurting them.

Once I realized this, I immediately decided I wanted to be his ally. I admit, he looks scary, and allying with him will keep the others away from me. I only hope that I've assumed right, and that he's not going to turn around and kill me as soon as the Games begin.

My thoughts turn to my mom, my sisters, and my brother. I wonder how they are doing. They must be sick with worry. I don't know if I'm going to survive the Games, but I know that it will be easier if I have help. And I have to try. For them.

* * *

**Fleck:**

As indicated by my name, I am surprisingly quite good at wielding a spear. As a matter of fact, most of the weapons seem easy to handle. I think they're going to be my strong point. But the things that require a lot of thought are more difficult. I'm better at quick thinking. Things that take an instant to decide. Not slow decisions like which plants to eat or how long it will take to purify water.

I have to win these stupid Games. I have a perfect life back home. We're already plenty rich, which is surprising for our district. We already have a nice home with lots of children. A mother and father who love each other and cook all sorts of delicious things for us. Having the prizes and living in the Victor's Village will only be an added bonus to the amazing life I have already. But it's not because of everything I already have. It's because of how imperfect my family's life will be once I am gone. How devastated they'll be. And I never want to put them through that.

* * *

**Jay:**

Dag is really sweet. And pretty good-looking, too. He's great with hand-to-hand combat, and really strong. And I find myself wanting to impress him. But we've already talked about this. We both like each other, very much. But we've decided to try our best to forget about it. Because it will only set us up for heartbreak once the Games are over. One or both of us will die. And whoever outlasts the other will be devastated.

I'm not bad with aim weapons. They're the ones I'm best able to use. Strength weapons are not my thing, because I simply am not strong enough to handle them. But aim weapons have a farther range than strength weapons, which will mean that I don't have to get close to my opponents. That will give me an advantage.

Before I realize it, today's training session is over. One more left, and then the private sessions. And I am not looking forward to those.


	15. Training Scores

**_Here are the scores for the private sessions!_**

**District 1 -**

F: Melicia Stone [age 12] - 6

M: Daunte Persimmons [age 16] - 7

**District 2 -**

F: Xena Skrane [age 17] - 11

M: Vicious Kvitova [age 18] - 10

**District 3 -**

F: Myeeka Jewel [ages 15/16(birthday during Games)] - 5

M: Tam "Toggle" Finkler [ age 18] - 9

**District 4 -**

F: Adena Johnson [age 12] - 6

M: Glade Synther [age 15] - 2

**District 5 -**

F: Belle Rose [age 16] - 7

M: Simon Yarrow [age 16] - 5

**District 6 -**

F: Cirstea Ware [age 17] - 7

M: Carbon Vander [age 18] - 8

**District 7 - **

F: Sirena Heartwood [age 14] - 8

M: Ash Torenn [age 17] - 8

**District 8 -**

F: Tanaly "Tana" Valban [age 15] - 6

M: Peri Wilcox [age 18] - 5

**District 9 -**

F: Levia Rosscoe [age 16] - 8

M: Mark Vires [age 14] - 9

**District 10 -**

F: Safita Kohritzi [age 13] - 4

M: Lyle Henders [age 17] - 6

**District 11 -**

F: Reena "Zero" Zeter [age unknown, around fourteen?] - 7

M: Fleck Spear [age 14] - 6

**District 12 -**

F: Jay Grayheart [age 15] - 8

M: Dag Clearwood [age 16] - 7

**_REMEMBER: The scores are in no way an indication of how long each tribute will last in the Arena. The tributes may do better or worse than their scores suggest :)_**


	16. Interviews

**_If you read nothing else, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE reread the voting rules, written at the bottom of this page :) Thanks!

* * *

_Valerian Petros(host):**

The first to join me onstage is a little girl called Melicia. She's wearing a rich velvet dress with diamond accents. The ensemble looks almost too sophisticated for her, but her makeup changes her features enough to make it work.

"Hello, Melicia," I greet her.

"Hello," she replies.

"Are you ready for the Games?"

"No, but I can't help that. I'll just have to do my best."

"Do you think you have a shot at winning?"

"We'll have to see. I'd like to say I do, but I'm up against a lot of tough competition. They're older, stronger, and maybe even smarter than I am."

"I admire your honesty," I say with a smile. The questions and answers continue on until our time is up, and she is replaced by the other tribute from her district: Daunté Persimmons.

"What do you feel your strategy is, for the Games?" I ask.

"I don't know if I can do it on my own, so I am most likely going to make allies. I figure that's the best way to make it into the top bunch. Then we'll separate, and we'll see how it goes from there."

"Do you have any allies in place?"

"Well . . . You might just have to wait and see," he finishes, sounding a bit anxious.

Soon the timer goes off, and the female tribute from District Two is up. Her name is Xena.

"Hello, Xena," I say.

Xena says nothing in reply. She stares an intimidating stare straight into my eyes. It's almost as if she's reading my thoughts. I stammer out another question, trying to keep the interview going.

"Um, what are your p-plans for the Games?"

Still, she says nothing. For what seems like an hour, she simply stares me down. Finally, the timer sounds, and she leaves me to think clearly again.

Vicious, her district partner, is next. He looks as intimidating as Xena, as suggested by his name.

"Do you think you can win these Games?" I ask him.

"Oh, I am going to win. I have trained all my life to be a Peacekeeper, and I am not giving that up now. I am going to win these Games and go back home, and become a Peacekeeper like I have always wanted."

"And the blood on your hands will not . . . bother you?"

"No one can escape these Games without a little blood on their hands."

When he leaves, I give a little shudder. Luckily, the cameras are already on the next tribute, Myeeka Jewel.

She looks stunning, with her brown hair twisted into a bun, little curls hanging loose around her face, and her green eyes drawn out by makeup. Her dress is covered with a million twinkling silver sequins that send dots of light dancing across the walls.

"What kind of chance do you think you have in the Games?" I ask.

"I have no chance, without Toggle," she answers honestly. "If he hadn't volunteered, and come along to help me, I wouldn't have even made it past the first day. But I believe in him, and I know that if he comes through, I can go home to my family."

"But that would mean his death."

"Yes. It would mean his death." I can see her breaking on the inside. "But I've accepted it now. If we're the last two, there's no way he'll let me send him home. Only one of us can make it out of these Games, and he's chosen me. Once he's decided on something, it's impossible to change his mind."

That's evident when Toggle, wearing a suit covered in the same silver sequins, takes her place.

"I came here for Myeeka, and only for Myeeka. I don't plan on going home, and I never did. If I don't send her back home, I'll have failed. I would never feel worthy of going back home myself, if that was the case."

"You must really love her."

"She's been my best friend since we were little. Her family is my family. I can't imagine life without her, so I know they can't either. I need to send her home to them."

Next up is Adena from District Four. Her dress is nearly an exact copy of her chariot outfit—covered in shiny blue fish scales—but this time it's a floor-length dress instead of a jumpsuit with fins attached. "I like to think the Games'll be a little like my life," she tells me. "Because, really, people coming out of the woodwork to kill me pretty much happens on a daily basis."

I must have looked really serious(I mean, she's only twelve! People trying to _kill_ her?), because she suddenly burst out laughing, and I followed along, doubling over as if it's really funny to joke about people killing little girls.

Her district partner is her complete opposite. He does not try to be funny or even to be serious. He's almost as bad as Xena, only speaking once. To say "hello".

I'm glad when he leaves and is replaced by the girl from District Five: Belle.

She's a tiny little thing, and she's wearing a sleeveless gold dress that ruffles out at the bottom. A headband adorned with a golden flower sits atop her waist-length blonde curls.

"If there's any reason you would win the Games, what would it be?" I ask.

"I may not look like much, but it would not be wise to cross me," she says in reply.

Her district partner, Simon, is next to take her place. His interview goes smoothly, and before he leaves, he says, "I . . . I just don't want people to forget that I'm a real person. Everyone here is a human with a family and a home and everything."

"Thank you, Simon," I say as the buzzer goes off.

When he leaves, Cirstea from District Six takes his place. She is wearing a pristine white dress with matching heels and earrings.

"Are you ready for the Games?" I ask her. She laughs, but not because it's funny.

"Can anybody ever really be ready?" she answers my question with a rhetorical question of her own.

When she leaves, I am struck by how true her words are.

Next is her district partner, Carbon. His suit is equally white and pristine. "I'm determined to win," he tells me. "I'll never stop. Not until it's over."

"And what is your reason for being so determined? Is there some beautiful girl back home you need to get back to?" I dare to inquire.

"I . . ." Tears come to his eyes. "Yes. But not only because of her. She's . . . carrying my child."

Tears are threatening to come to _my_ eyes by the time he is gone.

District Seven is up next, and they seem to be continuing the white theme. The girl, Serina, is wearing a dress that appears to be made of paper. "I will do what I must to survive, because my father needs me. He needs the money I will make if I win. I will do the very best I can to win, for him. I won't let him down," she says in a quiet, controlled voice.

I sigh. So many tributes with so many stories; so many reasons they need to go back home. I'm tired of this, but I have to get through the rest of them.

Ash is up next. He seems to be really shy, because he has difficulty getting out the words he wants to say.

"How badly do you want to win these Games?"

"I-I," he stutters, "Well . . . T-there are other p-people who have a better chance than me . . . And s-some of them . . . Um . . . Well, th-there's someone I'd r-rather have w-win."

"Oh? And who is that?"

He hides his face and doesn't reply. Luckily for him, the timer goes off. He makes his way off the stage faster than any other tribute has.

"What do you feel your chances are in the Games?" I ask Tanaly, the girl from District Eight.

"I'm pretty sure I'll be around for awhile," she replies with a smile.

Peri, her district partner, is not nearly as confident. "I just . . . don't know if I can do it. You know?"

I assume he is talking about the fact that pressure will be upon every tribute to make a kill. I suddenly feel even more sorry for these poor kids. How can we force them to kill each other? It isn't right! I suddenly have an urge to get up and say something, to go against it, but I know it will cost me my life. President Shingle has killed many for doing just that, and he will not hesitate to do the same to me. So I continue with the interviews, becoming increasingly more agitated as they proceed.

Levia is the female tribute from District Nine, and she seems to be Peri's opposite. She's from District Nine, so she likely won't hesitate while killing. "The Hunger Games . . . just another game," she says, "only with higher stakes. I'm good at games!"

Mark, the next tribute on the list, does no good to lighten the mood. He hardly looks up, and all he talks about is his best friend who died last year. He ends the interview by saying, "If you die first or twenty-third in the Games, it doesn't change anything. You'll be dead either way. First is the only place that really matters, and that's the one I'm going for."

Safita, from District Ten, is another young girl. She's sweet and smiley, even though we're talking about what is to come. She tells me of her family, her baby sister, and her best friends. She even gives a hint at one of her best strengths: climbing trees. I can't bear to think of her struggling through the Games.

Seeing her district partner is even more disconcerting. Lyle Henders is in a wheelchair, and he is completely hopeless. "I'm doomed," he says, "there's no way I'm going to survive."

The tributes from the next district are back to being ruthless. Reena only gives me a cold stare when I ask her why it is that she has been given the nickname "Zero". And Fleck tells me that, "Killing is in the nature of the human being. There has never been a time where we were able to live peacefully, and there never will be. I will kill mercilessly in the Games, whether the Gamemakers give me a high score or not."

Finally, I have reached District Twelve. Only two to go. But neither does anything to calm my desire to stand against the Capitol. Jay, the female tribute from the district, says, "Look: there's one thing I know, and that is that there are only two ways out. Either come back a winner, or die trying."

I finally crack when Dag, the male tribute from District Twelve, speaks.

"Heh, if I had a choice, I'd go back home."

"I wish you could go home, too, " I say, and a single tear finally spills out of my left eye, as it has been threatening to do all afternoon.

"Well, I guess neither of us get what we wish for."

I don't even realize what I said to him until the interviews are over, and I am heading home. I am about to get into my car, when I feel a sharp pain in the back of my head. I touch it with my hand, and then bring back. It's covered in fresh blood.

Just before I lose consciousness for good, I see the face of President Shingle above me, with a maniacal smile playing upon his lips.

* * *

**_You don't even know how disturbing this was to write. I cried! I'm so overemotional :P_**

**_Anyways, this is simply a reminder that you are free to vote for your favourite tribute as of now. _**

**_Remember:_**

_**1. **_**You may vote even if you were not one of the people to submit a tribute.**

_**2. **_**In order for your vote to count, it must be posted as a review.**

**_- one vote per chapter;_**

**_- one name per vote._**

**_3. _If you WERE one of the people who submitted a tribute, you MUST NOT vote for your tribute. In doing this, I hope to eliminate the possibility of having an unfair vote.**

**_4. _As the Games progress, if you wish, you may also submit an idea for a parachute gift for your favourite tribute. If a tribute has more than five votes (this number will increase to ten, and then twenty when the number of tributes decreases to eight, and then four), I will choose one of the suggested gifts and send it to the tribute :)**

**5. FOLLOW THE RULES, or your vote will be invalid.**

**Thanks :)  
**

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	17. Day 1, Part 1: A Bath in Blood

**_I feel so bad, because I already have two votes for Lyle, but he's already pretty much a goner... He was submitted AS a bloodbath tribute, so really, he's been dead since before I wrote him. D: Sorry, for those who voted for him, but I already have a shortage of bloodbaths! And because of that shortage, I'm also really, really, really sorry if I kill off a character who you think should have survived! Don't be mad! D:  
_**

**_

* * *

_Belle(5):**

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the first annual Hunger Games begin!"

We were told to stay on these large metal plates for a whole minute after those booming words. I stand with my legs apart, ready to run as soon as the gong sounds. As I look around, I see a lot of eye contact between the other tributes. They're gesturing around to the area around them vaguely, trying not to let on to the others what their plans are. I see the two tributes from Three are deciding to head straight for the forest behind us. The girl is trying to relay the same message to the male tribute from One, but he doesn't seem to be understanding it.

I decide to take in my surroundings. The sun is already high in the sky. The twenty-four plates are arranged in a line along a large lake that is straight in front of us. Behind us is a dense forest, filled with all types of trees. Between the plates and the lake, many weapons of all types are scattered on the thin strip of sand. Behind us, even more weapons can be found. And in the very middle of the lake is a perfectly circular island, with the large, golden Cornucopia on it. We were told it would be somewhere in the Arena. But we weren't told it would be so inaccessible. As I look closer, I can see how it will be valuable. Inside, arranged in neat rows, are what I guess to be twenty-four fluorescent orange backpacks. They are probably filled with important supplies. Around the Cornucopia are little piles of other supplies. I can see a long rope coiled at the edge of the water.

Each tribute is dressed the same as I am: old-fashioned blue jeans, a white tank top, and black jacket. Many people have their tokens visible. I adjust my own, my mother's old engagement ring, so that the diamond is facing me. It calms me a little.

I wonder how much longer we have to wait. I can tell we're getting close.

* * *

**Glade(4):**

This is so boring. I can't believe we're waiting for a whole minute. I think it's just something they told us we had to do so we would be more nervous. There's probably no danger in getting a head start. Besides. I'm probably going to die anyways. If I can get a head start, fine. If I die trying, it will only hasten the inevitable. I never planned on winning. I have nothing to live for.

I take a deep breath, and step off my plate.

* * *

**Safita(10):**

I hear a high pitched scream, and I realize it's my own.

The tribute from Four, the guy, steps off his plate. And just like that, he's blown to pieces; body parts and blood flying everywhere.

I reach up and wipe a spatter of blood off my cheek.

The gong has sounded, but most of us are too stunned to move. I see the tributes from Two stepping cautiously off of their plates, and when they realize it's safe, running for a weapon. Xena, the girl, finds a large spear and tests it out. Vicious, the boy, has a mace.

By now, other tributes are hurrying to grab their own weapons. Many make for the forest. The girl from Four dives into the lake and heads for the Cornucopia. I decide it's about time for me to make a getaway, too.

As I run, I see the boy in the wheelchair trying desperately to get into the woods. I watch as a spear enters his body, and then is pulled back out by Xena. He falls limply to the ground.

Halfway to the woods, I bend down and grab a knife. I begin to stand up, and—

* * *

**Peri(8):**

I haven't moved from my plate. I will not. I will not make a kill, and I will not live through the Games to go back to my father a "coward" in his eyes.

I watch in horror as three tributes die, and I can't even believe that it's other kids doing the killing. The girl named Levia has killed the little girl from Ten. Xena from Two stuck her spear into Lyle.

Then I watch another death. The male tribute from Two brings his mace down onto Belle's head. I cover my eyes in horror, and I don't even see the arrow flying towards me.

* * *

**Jay(12):**

Dag and I are already making our getaway. He's grabbed a long sword, and I have a bow and arrows that I have yet to use. I'm not ready to do any killing.

Dag is faster than me, and I start to get behind. He grabs my hand in an effort to make me run faster. Then, something hits me in the back, and I stumble, letting out a scream.

* * *

**Levia(9):**

I laugh. I've killed two already: Jay, from Twelve, and Safita, the girl from Ten. It's satisfying, and I allow myself to stand still for a minute to watch Dag, the male tribute from Twelve, try to pick Jay up and keep her running. He's so full of adrenaline that he doesn't seem to even realize that the knives sticking out of her back and neck have killed her.

I realize that I had better get going. I'm out of knives, so I bend down to pick a few more up. Then I scan my surroundings.

The area is clear. No one is around. I let out another laugh, this time because I am alive, and the only one who hasn't run off. But then a little movement catches my eye, and I break into a run.

My last realization is that I've run straight into someone's long sword.

* * *

**_Please submit your vote for this chapter. Among the dead are:_**

**_-Glade(4)  
-Lyle(10)  
-Safita(10)  
-Belle(5)  
-Peri(8)  
-Jay(12)  
-Levia(9)_**


	18. Day 1, Part 2: Reaching the Cornucopia

**Myeeka(3):**

"I have a plan," I annouce.

As soon as the gong sounded, Toggle, Daunté and I made for the forest. Toggle and Daunté both grabbed swords, and Toggle handed me a knife, "Just in case." Then we found a thicket at the edge of the woods and burrowed in, trying to completely conceal ourselves. I buried my face in Toggle's shoulder so that I wouldn't have to see the killings. I didn't look until he assured me that a hovercraft had removed the last of the bodies.

By that time, the area was mostly free of tributes. Well, except for Adena, the one who had swum out to the Cornucopia. She was still there, making sure it was safe. At last, she took off at the opposite end of the little island, a bright orange backpack on her back. When she disappeared, the three of us began to try to come up with a plan. We all agreed that we would need to get to the Cornucopia sometime.

Soon after, a plan started forming in my mind. Several weapons were still lying around, and there was a coiled rope at the edge of the island. As soon as I knew what we could do, I decided to tell Toggle and Daunté.

"What's your plan?" Toggle asks.

"See that rope out there?" I say. When they nod, I continue. "Well, I think we should make a raft, so we can bring more stuff back. There are a couple of axes over there, so you two can cut down some small trees. I'll try to swim out and get the rope, and then we can tie the logs together."

"Can you swim?" asked Daunté.

"Not well . . . But if I hold onto a branch, I'll be able to make it. I think."

"Is it safe yet? I mean, do you think we should wait to make sure no one's around?" Toggle asks.

"I don't see anyone . . ." I say. "Can one of you get me a branch to swim with? Preferably not a dead one."

Toggle and Daunté both jump up to do it. "You don't _both_ need to go," I say.

"I'll do it," Daunté says quickly.

"Fine," says Toggle. Daunté grabs an axe and heads for a tree near our hiding spot to cut off a branch. After a couple minutes of trouble, Toggle gets up and takes the axe from him. "Let me," he says.

Toggle works more quickly than Daunté had, and the branch is off in no time. "Your branch, my lady," Toggle says in an old fashioned accent as he hands it to me. I head for the lake.

"Are you sure?" Daunté asks at the same time as Toggle says, "Be careful."

"Yes," I say in reply to both of them, "Now go cut some trees down." The tips of my toes are touching the water now. The water is warm, so I walk confidently farther out. It only takes four steps to put me in water that's up to my neck, and suddenly I have to rely on the branch to keep me up. I hold tightly to it and kick as hard as I can. Water splashes everywhere, making noises with every kick, and I realize I need to be quieter.

After what seems like an eternity, my arms bump against an outcropping of rock that's just below the surface. I climb onto it and start walking, leaving the branch behind. The rock turns into sand, and soon I've reached the coil of rope. I pick it up, and struggle under its weight. The rope is thick and long, and I don't know if I can get it back. I think maybe I'll coil it around the branch or something.

When I reach the branch, I set the rope down for a minute, and I'm surprised to see that the ends are floating. The rope lifts up slightly from the surface of the rock, and I have an idea. I tie one end of the rope to the branch and then begin to swim back, letting the rope trail behind me. It's so long that when I get back, the other end of the rope is still halfway across the lake. I pull it in and then go find Daunté and Toggle.

I hear the sounds of wood being chopped long before I see them. Next to Toggle, who seems to be doing a quicker job, I see the trunk of a small tree. He is already working on another one. Daunté still seems to be working on his first. My face falls. This could take us a long time. Maybe I should just swim back out and try to get as much as I can.

Suddenly I see a movement in the trees behind Toggle. "Look out!" I shriek. Toggle turns quickly, axe at the ready.

"Oh, please. You don't even know how to use that, do you?" The voice is coming from one of the two figures emerging from the forest. When they come into view, I realize that they are the tributes from District Seven. They are both carrying axes, but neither has their weapon raised. Toggle, on the other hand, has his axe held high, ready to strike.

"Whoa, whoa," says the girl. I rack my brain and remember her name is Serina. Her partner is Ash. "Truce. We're here to help."

"You want to ally with us?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah. Obviously you must have some brilliant plan, seeing as you've got a random coil of rope, and the boys are chopping trees down as quickly as they can. Very messily and loudly, I might add. So what? You trying to get to the Cornucopia?"

"As a matter of fact, we are," Daunte says.

"We're making a raft," I put in.

"Well, it looks like you could use some help," Serina says with a roll of her eyes. "S'cuse me." She takes Daunté's place in front of his tree and fells it with three strikes. Ash, who hasn't said a word since he got here, quickly fells Toggle's tree as well.

"Well, what do _we_ do?" Daunte asks Serina. She sighs.

"You can help, too. Incompetent help is better than no help at all, I suppose."

"Well, that was kind of rude," I say.

"Yeah, well. I'm not exactly thrilled to be here."

"No one is! That doesn't give you a reason to . . ." I trail off as I see Serina's smile. It seems so odd, so out of the ordinary in this horrific place, that I smile back.

"I'm sorry," she says. "This is just a lot of pressure. That's all."

* * *

**Simon(5):**

I hear a sharp snap behind me. I whip around to see if someone is there, gripping my knife tightly. Then, another crack from the left. I turn to face the new sound. I scan the forest quickly, but I see nothing. When I hear another snap, I turn and run as fast as I can through the trees. I dodge plants and fallen tree trunks as quickly as I can, but I trip on a root and land face-down in a pile of leaves. I struggle to get up, but my foot is still caught, so I fall again as soon as I start to move again.

I race to unhook my foot and keep going. The noises behind me are louder and more frequent, so I know I am being pursued. I run faster and faster and suddenly I emerge in a clearing. It is easier to run in the clearing, so I gain some ground, but as soon as I enter the forest on the other side of the clearing, I am forced to slow. Running in the clearing was almost too easy, and I got used to it too quickly, so now that I have obstacles to dodge again, I am having trouble. I fall once more.

This time, my pursuers are closer behind me, and they catch up when I fall. I don't try to get up, but turn around to face them. The girl and boy from Eleven, Zero and Fleck, are the ones who face me.

Fleck's eyes tell me he is sorry, but his actions say otherwise as he plunges his spear into my chest.

* * *

**Serina(7):**

It's taken quite a while to get the pile of trees we need for the raft. But finally, Myeeka says, "I think that's enough."

She grabs the coil of rope and begins to arrange the tree trunks in a tight square. Toggle wordlessly helps her, as if they are on the same brain-length, and the rest of us kind of stand around wondering how we can help. Then Myeeka starts telling us what to do.

"Daunte, could you tie off that end of the rope over there? Oh, and Serina, set aside that really long tree. We can use that one as an oar of sorts."

We all comply without question. Any other time I would probably have gotten mad at her for being bossy, but not this time. It's obvious she's got a clear picture of what she wants in her head, and, to be honest, we kind of need her telling us what to do. The sun is beginning to sink in the sky, and we need to hurry.

Eventually, Myeeka deems the raft complete, and we push it out into the lake to test it out.

"It floats!" Daunte says, sounding surprised.

"Of course it does," says Toggle as if he never doubted for a second that it would.

"Well, don't be so sure yet . . . We still have to see how much weight it can hold up under," Myeeka says skeptically.

"It'll be fine," says Toggle. He steps onto the raft. It doesn't move, except for to drift out slightly from the sand. "See? Good so far!"

In turn, we all take a place on the raft. Toggle uses the long tree we set aside earlier to push us along. The water gets so deep as we get closer to the island that Toggle cries out.

"I can't reach the bottom anymore!"

We all use our hands in an attempt to propel ourselves forward. As soon as we get close enough, Toggle reaches out the tree to the underwater rock cliff and pulls us in. We drag the raft up onto the sand.

I head straight in to the Cornucopia. Inside are several neat rows of bright orange backpacks. Behind me, Myeeka counts them aloud.

"Twenty-three," she says. "Twenty-four, if you count the one Adena already took. Enough for every tribute to have one."

Then she steps forward to inspect one of them. "Waterproof," she informs us as she takes a closer look. She unzips the large pocket and starts to pull things out. I take another bag and do the same. In each backpack we find:

- 1 thin sleeping bag;  
- 1 vial of iodine;  
- 1 vial of some clear purple liquid I can't identify;  
- 1 box of 30 matches;  
- 1 large black tarp;  
- 1 empty plastic jug for water;  
- 1 small square of tightly-woven mesh I can only assume is to filter water;  
- 2 large plastic resealable bags;  
- 7 small packages of mixed nuts and dried fruit; and  
- 7 small packages of dried meat.

Myeeka surveys all of this and comes up with a plan. "Let's gather the food from every bag and stuff it into an empty one. We should also collect some extra iodine so we can have clean water. And that purple stuff, too. I don't know what it's for yet, but we'll probably need it. Then we'll empty all of the rest of the backpacks into the lake so no one can get at them."

We quickly do as she says, stashing any food that can't fit in the extra backpack into our own. We dump the other backpacks out and then throw them into the water along with their contents. The sun has almost set, and we decide to spend the night on the little island, where no one can get to us.

After all that work, I'm starting to get thirsty. I take my empty jug and hold the mesh thing over the top, then plunge it into the lake. The water looks greenish brown. I guess on the amount of iodine to put in it, and then Myeeka lets out a shout.

"I figured out what the purple stuff's for!" she tells us. "I think the water's poisonous. Smell it." I take a whiff. It smells sour, but I don't smell poison . . .

"Seriously," she says. "Didn't any of you practice identifying poisons in training? Never mind, just trust me. I remember the purple stuff now. The trainer didn't tell me what it's called, but he said that you need a drop per litre. I'm estimating these jugs are about two litres, so use two drops."

We all put two drops of the purple stuff into our jugs and then set them aside to wait. When we judge that more than thirty minutes have gone by, we drink. The sun has gone.

Before we go to sleep, the Anthem plays, and I hear eight cannon shots. That means that one more person has died since the deaths I watched in the initial bloodbath. When the pictures of the dead are shown in the sky, I see that the boy from Five has joined the tributes whose deaths I witnessed. I curl up in the heat-reflecting sleeping bag and squeeze my eyes tightly.

* * *

**_Please submit your vote for this chapter. Among the dead are:_**

**_- Glade(4)  
- Lyle(10)  
- Safita(10)  
- Belle(5)  
- Peri(8)  
- Jay(12)  
- Levia(9)  
- Simon(5)_**


	19. Day 2: Tears and Fears

**Carbon(6):**

I wake up before my eyes open and am unsure where I am. Why am I sleeping on the ground? Am I still dreaming? _Wake up, wake up, wake up . . . _I pinch myself, hard, but I'm still dreaming. I open my eyes.

_No, wait! This is real! _

I've survived the first day of the Games. No one killed me in the night. I'm alive!

I know immediately after taking a whiff of the lake water that it's unsafe to drink. Years of working in a water purification plant are actually coming in handy. There's something about the spiky, odd scent of the water that seems almost . . . poisonous. I'll never drink it. It would be too ironic for a District Six tribute to die from drinking unsafe water; I'd rather die of dehydration.

So I need to find a water source. I pick up the mace I found as I was running for the forest, as well as the knife I grabbed simply because there were so many lying around and I thought it would be useful. I turn the mace over in my hands, dropping the knife again as I take a better look at it. I was good enough with a mace in training, but I don't know if I can use it for real. It's such a brutal, gory weapon, especially with the metal studs that dot its weighted end. How could I use it on a living person? I'm going to have nightmares.

I grab the knife once again and put it in my belt. Then I start walking.

I've hardly walked twenty feet when a loud rustling to my left forces me to take a fighting stance. Tana, the girl from Eight, bursts out of the bushes and faces me.

"Hi," she says.

She's holding her knife ready, pointed straight at me. She can't be more than two feet away, but even from that distance she won't be able to stab me before I can hit her with my mace. But as I look at her, I know I probably won't be able to hit her. She looks so young and cute, with her sky blue eyes and freckles. I couldn't hit a little girl, could I?

Then my heart hardens. If it means I can go home and see Damask, yes. I raise my mace and get ready to strike.

But she's from Eight, same as Damask! Can I really do it?

Yes. She isn't Damask. She's not with child. Her left eye doesn't squint more than her right eye when she smiles. She doesn't have ginger coloured hair or green eyes or beautiful rosy cheeks that get rosier when she's excited or a heart-shaped burn scar across her right arm or—

"Hey, don't worry, I'm not trying to kill you," she says with a laugh, breaking into my thoughts. She lowers her knife. "I actually have a message, from someone you know. Damask."

I can feel my face soften at the mention of her name. "You know her?"

"I do. She wants you to know that she and the baby are fine, and that she loves you and misses you. I'm so sorry, Carbon . . ." She adds this to the end when tears start running down my face. She moves in to give me a hug, and I allow her to comfort me as I sob into her shoulder. She rubs my back and lets me cry.

What if I don't make it back? What if . . . What if she can't take the suspense? What if the baby . . .

The tears are uncontrollable now. I cry until I have no more tears, and then I keep crying. And when I'm finally done, Tana releases me, and then steps back shyly. "I guess I'd better go . . ."

"No!" I say too quickly. "I mean, you can stay with me, if you want . . . We can be allies."

"Okay," she agrees with a smile.

I don't know what I've gotten myself into, but I'm finding myself feeling really protective of Damask's friend.

* * *

**Melicia(1):**

I don't know what to do.

I thought I was going to have an ally. I thought I would have someone to help me. But now I'm all alone, with no supplies other than a knife. It's so small I can hardly defend myself with it! But all the other weapons that I might have actually been good at were taken by the time I got to them. The knives were the only weapons that seemed to be so plentiful that there were many left over. If I go back now, I'll probably be able to find more.

Luckily, I've already found water. I was so busy running away from the lake that I didn't even notice when I fell into a large pool. It's about fifteen feet in diameter, and it's just randomly sitting here in the middle of the forest. I have no idea how it got here, but I found it, and I'm glad. It's not the cleanest water, but it's refreshing enough, and I haven't died yet . . .

I even have a hiding place. There's a large thicket not twenty feet away from the pond, and if I burrow in deep enough, there's a little clearing in the middle of it. Apparently I have sponsors, because I got three loaves of warm bread and a large piece of delicious meat in a silver parachute this morning. I ate one of the loaves of bread, but I'm saving the rest for later. I don't know when they'll send me food next.

I amuse myself by carving pictures into the wood tangled around me. Soon I am doodling idly and letting my thoughts wander. I am bored.

I look at the words I have just finished carving and see a reflection of my endless thoughts staring back at me.

_If someone finds me here, I have nowhere to run._

* * *

**Mark(9):**

I adjust my wristband and think of Zach. We were like brothers. His parents were always really busy with work, and mine have always been too drunk to care about me, so we were always with each other. When he went to fight in the war against the Capitol, I was going to go with him, but I was attacked by a wild boar when I was out hunting, and I temporarily couldn't use my left leg. They wouldn't let me go. And now Zach's gone.

I thought I would have an ally in the Arena. Safita was nice, and I got to know her a bit in training. We were going to stick together. But she was on the other end of the metal plates when the Games began, and I couldn't protect her. I didn't even know she was gone until I made it to the forest and couldn't find her. And now Safita's gone.

Why is it that when I _do_ make a friend, they die?

I've been doing nothing but wandering so far today. I don't know where to go, but I guess I'm kind of looking for water. I bet most of the tributes in the Arena are. I don't know about anybody else, but I don't want to go back to the lake in case there's an ambush of tributes hiding out there.

I hear a piercing shriek from behind me. I turn to look for whoever made the noise, but another shriek comes from my left, and then another, and then they are all around me. I cover my ears as the screams become constant and try to find where they are coming from. They are getting louder, and soon I can see that they are birds, large colourful birds with beaks open wide. I sink to the ground and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block the noise.

I don't know how long I sit there, but when the screams finally stop, it's dark. My ears are ringing, and I seem to have lost my sense of balance. I stumble through the forest, trying to find a good place to sleep for the night. Suddenly, I am jumped from behind, and I fall over immediately. I couldn't hear my attacker coming, and it is too dark to see their face, but they have a sword, and it's glinting in front of me, and it's coming closer, and—

I wonder if my parents have come out of their drunken stupor long enough to see my death.

* * *

**_Please submit your vote for this chapter. Among the dead are:_**

**_- Glade(4)  
- Lyle(10)  
- Safita(10)  
- Belle(5)  
- Peri(8)  
- Jay(12)  
- Levia(9)  
- Simon(5)  
-Mark(9)_**


	20. Day 3: Nightmares

**Xena(2):**

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm a little glad Vicious has been following me around since the beginning of the Games. His knife-throwing skills are still horrendous, but he seems really good with the sword he's picked up. And besides, he went to several of the stations that I didn't bother with, like edible plants. I would be dead right now if he hadn't noticed that the green plant I was about to eat yesterday was deadly. I didn't want to acknowledge his presence, but when he decided to save my life, I guess I kind of couldn't ignore him.

It's the third day of the Games, and I'm tired. I hate to admit it, but I am. I have been walking all over the place looking for tributes, and Vicious has been following me, but we haven't run into anyone since the bloodbath. We hardly slept, because we were trying to keep an eye out for any stupid tributes who decide to walk around in the middle of the night.

This seems totally reversed. We, the ones who are looking for people, haven't seen anyone, but I'm sure many of the tributes trying to stay away from trouble are running into each other all over the place.

Today I'm going to try a new tactic, though. I'm climbing a tree to see where the lake is. Tributes without good sponsors, like Vicious and I have, will flock to where the water is. We'll go back there and see if we can bring down the pool of remaining tributes. Maybe even get out to the Cornucopia if we can figure out a way.

I look up the trunk of a particularly sturdy-looking, tall tree, and crack my knuckles. I reach up for the lowest branch and try to get a grip on it, but it's just a little to high for me. I can almost touch it . . . I jump to try to grab on, but my fingers slip.

"Need a boost?"

I turn to see Vicious standing inches behind me. I didn't even know he was awake.

"Uh . . . y-yeah," I stammer. I wait for him to hold out his hands for me to push off of, but he grabs me with both hands around the waist instead and lifts me off the ground easily. When I get a grip on the branch, he pushes me up even higher so I can climb on. "Thanks," I say, not meeting his eyes.

After that branch, the rest are close enough together for me to climb easily. When I get as high as I can before the branches will start to crack under my weight, I cling to the trunk and scan my surroundings. There is a breeze, and the tree trunk is thin enough here that I am swaying along with the wind. It's exhilarating.

Over to my left, I see a large clearing, and a couple of microscopic tributes milling about. The golden Cornucopia glints behind them. I look down and try to memorize a path through the branches that will end up with me facing the direction we need to go when I get down.

Quickly, I climb down the tree, and Vicious helps me hop down. He keeps his hands by my side a little longer than he needs to once I have gained my balance. I look away.

Grabbing my spear and knife, I head in the direction of the lake. Vicious follows me wordlessly. He hasn't even asked where we're going.

* * *

**Dag(12):**

I fiddle with my token, a dog tag with the silhouette of an eagle in flight cut out of it, as tears fill my eyes. It's already been two days since Jay died, and I can't stop thinking about her. We met on the train on the way to the Capitol, and instantly became friends after playing a little prank on our escort together. I liked her from the very start, and that didn't help anything. I want to win, to go back home, but I couldn't help but want to help her make it home, too. So it became my goal, to help her survive. I had a whole plan. I was going to save her from death, save her family whom I had never met from pain.

When the girl from Nine killed her, my natural instincts took over, and I had my revenge. I don't know how it happened in such a short time, but I loved Jay, and the girl from Nine destroyed her chance at life. I couldn't forgive that.

Now I'm all alone in the Arena, trying to fend for myself. Some sponsors took pity on me, I guess, after my partner was killed, and they've been sending me food and water, but the portions get smaller each meal.

I've decided that I still can make it home, but it won't come without a price. I have to kill more tributes if I'm going to make it out alive. I can't just mope around anymore, like I did all day for the past two days.

I realize I've been holding on to my token so tightly that an imprint of the eagle is etched onto my hand. My tears gone, I stand up and grab my sword, beginning to walk in the direction I came. I'm going to kill the next person I see. Period.

But when I hear noises coming from behind me, I'm not so sure. It sounds like more than one person. I hide behind a tree as quickly as I can just as the two people come in to view. The tributes from Two.

Can I take them? Maybe, if they haven't seen me, if I have the element of surprise . . .

But it's too late. I see them whispering and pointing at my tree. I grip my sword tightly.

Can I make a break for it? I won't get away in time. Should I charge? No, they'll just stand in place and attack me as soon as I get close enough. The girl has a spear, and I don't doubt her skills. I saw her in training, and she was good. She'll skewer me.

So I just wait. I can still try to surprise them, right? Maybe?

I count their footsteps.

I count the seconds.

The boy appears on one side of the tree, holding out his sword. I plunge mine into his chest, twisting a little as I pull it out. He falls to his knees. Then I make a run for it, daring a glance behind as I go.

The girl stayed behind a little, hanging back to use her spear, I suspect. I turn my face forwards and put on a burst of speed. A spear is heavy, and it won't fly too fast, I reason. I can outrun it, and then she'll have to go and pick it up before she can throw it again.

But then I feel something stick into my back. I gasp for breath and stumble, falling to the ground. When I turn, I see she still has her spear. I reach for the weapon in my back, and gently pull it out, taking heavy, ragged breaths. It's a knife. I hadn't seen her holding it before.

She's pretty far away still, and she knows I have two weapons, so she's not coming any closer. I lift my sword and her knife, both dripping blood, and try to get up.

She take aim with her spear, and it comes at me much faster than I thought it could. I hold up my sword to try to block it, but I know it won't work.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

* * *

**Adena(4):**

I've found myself an ally. Cirstea, the girl from Seven, immediately wanted to join me when she saw my bag of supplies. I would have declined, but I remembered her proficiency with weapons in training and decided I could do with her help.

She ran into me yesterday morning, when I was heading back towards the lake. I decided that being near the water would be the best thing for me. It may be poisonous, but I have the antidote, so living by the lake will definitely be my best bet for survival. Cirstea isn't so sure, though. She says that a lot of the tributes will try to stay near the water. But we've been here for the past two days, and we haven't seen a single person. They must be thinking the same way as Cirstea.

Yesterday, I swam out to the Cornucopia to see if I could get a backpack for Cirstea, but there were none to be found. I wonder what other tributes can swim. But we're making do with the little I have in my bag. We ran out of food last night, but I found a little silver parachute this morning containing a small hot breakfast, and another for Cirstea. I guess we have some sponsors. Water wise, we have plenty of iodine and purple-stuff left to purify the water in the lake for a week or so, as long as we don't drink too much. We'll be able to last for a while, if no one bothers us.

I've decided that I'm going to teach Cirstea to swim. If she learns the basics, we can swim out to the Cornucopia and set up camp there. But she doesn't seem to understand that swimming requires constant motion. She keeps forgetting to kick, and her arms aren't used to the weight of the water, so she tires easily.

"I give up," she splutters between coughs after falling face-first into the water for what must be the millionth time. She sits in the shallow water beside me and slaps her hands down in frustration, splashing water droplets all over.

"Don't give up," I say. "If we can get out there, we'll have an edge on the competition. They'll have to come out and get us. And no one can come and slit our throats while we sleep . . ." Then I have a stroke of inspiration. "Here, let's work on your kicking first."

I get up and move out into water up to my armpits, and motion for her to do the same. "My dad taught me how to swim by doing this." I put my hands out behind her. "Lie back onto my arms and kick. I've got you; water makes you lighter."

She hesitantly leans back onto my arms, and when she's lying flat on the water's surface, she begins to kick. "Good job," I tell her. After a little while, I decide to remove my arms. For a second, she doesn't even notice they're gone, but then she starts to sink. She's under the water for a few seconds before she finds the ground, coughing when she returns to the surface.

"Why . . . did you do th- . . . that?" she asks angrily. I laugh at the expression on her face.

"You have to learn not to be afraid of the water," I say.

"I don't want to do this," she huffs.

"Fine," I reply. "I'm swimming out to the Cornucopia on my own, then."

I head back to land and grab my backpack, then dive into the water and swim to the little island in the middle of the lake. I sit on the edge of the island for a while, and Cirstea and I stare at each other from opposite ends of the expanse of lake. Eventually, I go into the Cornucopia and roll out my sleeping bag. I lay back on it for a while, then decide I'm thirsty and take my water bottle to the water's edge to fill it. I try not to make it obvious that I'm looking at Cirstea, but out of the corner of my eye, I see that she's trying to swim again.

By the time my water has been properly treated with both solutions, Cirstea has a good foundation of swimming skills. She's nearly halfway across the lake, but I can tell she's struggling.

When she dips underwater again, I laugh and set out to help her. I reach her quickly, and together we make our way to the little island. It's slow going, but we eventually collapse onto solid ground again.

"You'll have to get better at that," I tell her. "You don't want to be trapped here for the rest of the Games."

She simply nods, looking very tired.

* * *

**Zero(11):**

_No! Please, don't hurt him! Whip me!_

"Whip me!"

I wake up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. I had been afraid to fall asleep, and now I'm wishing I never did. I wipe away the tears from my face and sit up.

In the darkness, I can see Fleck, who took the first watch. "My turn," I tell him, trying to hide my feelings as I take a seat next to him and motion for him to lie down.

I never once thought that I might actually ally with Fleck, even though we're both from Eleven. In fact, I would have rather stayed alone. But he seems intent on being my ally. Besides, we came to a mutual agreement that we didn't want to ally with anyone from another district, because we know that if someone should win, they should be from District Eleven. Besides, he's not that bad.

I've spent most of my life pushing people away. I can't honestly tell you the name of one person I call my friend. But Fleck . . . Fleck seems to find ways around my distance and secrecy. I don't know how he does it, but he does. And maybe, just maybe, he might be a friend.

"Are you okay?" he asks concernedly, not moving from beside me.

"Yeah, why?"

"You were screaming in your sleep."

"Just a nightmare," I tell him quickly.

"It . . . It didn't sound like just a nightmare . . ."

"Yeah, well."

"Do you maybe want to . . . talk about it?" he asks. I can vaguely see his dark eyebrows furrowing together in the darkness.

"No!" It comes out too quickly, too harshly, and I feel bad. He sits for a second, seemingly stunned, and then moves towards the fresh pine needles we piled together as a makeshift bed to go to sleep. He's settling in, and I can feel the tears stinging my eyes again.

"I . . ." I begin, too quietly for him to hear. I clear my throat and try again. "I'm sorry," I say. He sits up.

"It's alright," he assures me. "If you can't talk about it, it's alright."

"No, it's just . . . I've never . . . I don't . . ." I take a deep breath. "You're the first friend I've ever really had, you see, at least since I was much younger. Normally I don't . . . talk to people. And I never tell anyone about my nightmares."

He comes over and sits back down next to me. "I can't pretend to know how you feel, but I can listen . . ." he says. I bite my lip.

Then, all my built-up anger, frustration and sadness comes pouring out along with my story.

"Well, I guess you've probably always wondered where I got my scar, right?" I gesture to the tear-shaped scar below my left eye, and then continue without waiting for an answer. "My brother, Rokan, and I used to work in an apple orchard every day together. The Peacekeepers who oversaw our work treated us badly, and we hated them. When I was eight, Rokan and I made up a song called 'Whip Master,' kind of as a protest against them. We always sang it when we were especially tired or angry at the Peacekeepers, and it made us feel better. But one day we were caught singing it. When we got home that day, the head Peacekeeper came to our door and told us that singing was forbidden in our orchard. Rokan tried to tell him that we didn't know that, but the Peacekeeper thought he was being smart with him and decided to punish him. He dragged Rokan out to the town square, me running behind, and then he strapped him to a post and took out a whip. 'Would you like to sing your song now?' he asked. 'I am the whip master, now tell me your song!' And then Rokan began to sing, just as the first stroke of the whip hit his back.

"_Whip master, whip master,_  
_Hear our cries:_  
_We have done nothing_  
_For you to despise._  
_Tell one, tell all_  
_How the mighty do fall._  
_How you wield your power_  
_Above all._

"_Whip master, whip master_  
_Hear our pleas_  
_Tell us why you_  
_Treat us like fleas._  
_Tell one, tell all_  
_How the mighty do fall._  
_How you wield your power_  
_Above all._

"_Whip master, whip master_  
_Feel my pain_  
_So I may go_  
_When you have nothing to gain._  
_Tell one, tell all_  
_How the mighty do fall._  
_How you wield your power_  
_Above all. _

"_Whip master, whip master_  
_Are you sick inside_  
_When you see my blood_  
_And you try to hide._  
_Whip master, whip master_  
_Tell one, tell all_  
_How you were once so mighty_  
_And how you fall._

"The whipping continued, and Rokan kept singing. I ran at the Peacekeeper and he hit me, and that's where I got my scar. 'Stop!' I screamed. 'I made up the song! Please, don't hurt him! Whip me! Whip me!' But the Peacekeeper ignored me. He whipped Rokan hundreds of times, and soon he was dead. Then he just stood over his still-bleeding body with a sick grin on his face. I crawled over and held Rokan's head in my hands, tears streaming down my face. And just as the Peacekeeper began to leave, I sang another verse of the song, one my anger helped me to make up on the spot.

"_Whip master, whip master_  
_Hear my vow:_  
_I'll kill you one day_  
_I don't yet know how._

"And that's where my token comes from, too." I'm referring to the tiny vial on a leather cord that I wear around my neck. It contains a few drops of my brother's blood. That way he's always close to me.

Neither Fleck or I speak. Then, I start to cry, laying down on the ground with my head in Fleck's lap, and all he can think to do is pet my hair until I run out of tears and fall asleep.

* * *

**_Please submit your vote for this chapter. Among the dead are:_**

**_- Glade(4)  
- Lyle(10)  
- Safita(10)  
- Belle(5)  
- Peri(8)  
- Jay(12)  
- Levia(9)  
- Simon(5)  
- Mark(9)  
- Vicious(2)  
- Dag(12)  
_**


	21. Day 4: Quenching Thirst

******_Author's Note: HEY YOU GUYS! I'M BACK! (And weirder than ever...)_**

**_I am extremely sorry. Like, really, really, really sorry. I really shouldn't have gone without updating for so freaking long. It's literally been months, and I highly doubt that anyone is actually going to still be reading this. But I honestly owe it to y'all to get it finished, so I promise I will try my best, even though I'm extremely busy and have lost most of my drive for writing this..._**

**_Anyways, if you're still reading, I love you so much! :) Don't forget to review with your vote for this chapter (and feel free to continuously bug me via private message if I begin to take forever to update again!).  
_**

* * *

**Cirstea(6):**

Adena is already out for a swim by the time I wake up. I watch her through bleary eyes as I munch on a piece of dried fruit. She keeps diving under the water and coming back up with handfuls of stuff that she piles in the shallow water. I walk over to the pile and see an empty water bottle and a few vials of iodine. What are they doing in the water?

When Adena comes back up with an orange backpack, I realize that another tribute must have dumped all of the stuff from the Cornucopia into the lake to keep other tributes from getting it.

"Does this mean someone else can swim?" I ask Adena, who has just brought up a thin sleeping bag like the one she slept on last night. She suddenly looks quite worried.

"I think you're right," she says. "It's not a good sign. We might not be safe here."

"Did you see any food down there?"

"Not yet."

I sigh and sit down on the sand, taking off my shoes and letting my feet hang into the shallow water. Soon Adena finishes swimming and comes to sit next to me.

"So?" she says.

"So what?"

"What do you think? Are we safe? Should we move into the trees where we can hide?"

I think for a minute, letting my gaze wander to the forest around us. "I guess we should stay here," I say finally. "There can't be too many people who can swim, so we're more likely to actually run into someone out there. For now, I think we're safe."

"Alright, we'll stay here," she says, getting up and leaving me alone again. She sounds really worried, though, almost paranoid.

A little while later, I hear a sound. I scan the trees and see the girl from Two emerging onto the beach. I run for the cover of the Cornucopia and get in as deep as I can. Adena, who has already been sitting inside, asks why I've come in so fast.

"That girl from Two, the scary-looking one, is on the beach!" I tell her. Her eyes widen and she looks terrified.

"What are we going to do? Should we just hide in here?"

"What will that do? If she can't swim, does it matter if she knows we're here?"

"Do you _know_ she can't swim?" Adena asks.

"No . . . But still, we need to get water and stuff. We can't stay hiding in here as long as she can wait out there. And besides, what good can she do? Unless she has a bow and arrows, she can't get her weapons at us. She has to swim out here."

"Yeah, but what if she makes an ally who can swim? Then we're trapped out here!"

I think quickly. "You're right, it's dangerous for people to know we're out here. We need to get out of here soon. Our best bet is probably to swim out onto the opposite side of the forest from where she is and then find a new water source."

For a while we stay in the Cornucopia in silence, watching Xena set up some of her stuff. I guess she doesn't care if she's out in the open, because no one wants to mess with her anyways. I don't know how much time passes, but after quite a while she disappears into the woods. She's left her stuff behind, though, so I can tell she'll be back.

"Let's go right now," Adena says. "We might not get a better chance."

I agree with her. We quickly pack our things and move to the edge of the water. I'm not exactly ready to go swimming again, but I really have no choice. And, after we get started, I realize it's not as bad as I thought it would be. I'm feeling stronger, and swimming isn't as hard for me as it was on the way to the island.

We swim as quietly as possible, and soon reach the beach. Wanting to find cover as soon as possible, we don't take a break to rest, but instead run as fast as we can into the woods, sand sticking to our wet bodies.

"Alright, I think we can stop now," says Adena finally, when we get quite a ways in from the beach. She slows to a stop and sits on a fallen tree, and I follow her lead. We take some time to get our breath back, and then I take a long drink.

Suddenly, I hear a rustling behind us, and Adena is gone in a second, taking her bag with her and leaving me behind. "Adena! Wait!" I say, hurrying after her, but something heavy and painful hits my back and I stumble to the ground. _Why didn't she stay and help me?_ I think, tears falling down my face as I try to get up.

Twigs snap nearby, and for a wild moment I don't know where the noises are coming from. Then the girl from Two appears between the trees, an expression of rage on her face evident for a split second before it turns into a horrifying smile and she throws her spear at me. My world goes black.

* * *

**Tana(8):**

The Games are different with an ally. I wish I'd allied with Carbon from the start. He's smart, and knows how to do things that will help us survive.

Ironically, the only thing his skills haven't helped us with is the hunt for clean water. We've been searching all day, and part of yesterday, and we've found nothing. All we've had to drink is one water bottle each, sent this morning by our sponsors, but we've both polished them off. It's late afternoon, now, and we're thirsty again.

"Maybe we should go back to the lake. At least there's water there, right?" I say.

"No," Carbon says quickly. "That water isn't safe. I wouldn't drink it even if I had no other choice."

After we trudge on for a few more minutes, we hear a hovercraft, and soon after we find a silver parachute sailing down a few feet in front of us. I rush to grab it, and I find a vial of iodine and two large plastic jugs. They're empty.

"Huh," Carbon says. "If they were going to send us water jugs, they could have at least filled them with water first . . ."

My mind, however, is racing. Why would they send us water jugs if we have no water? And they wouldn't send us iodine if they actually sent water anyways, right?

"What if . . . What if they sent the jugs to us because we're near a water source?" I say. Without waiting for his answer, I quickly move to the nearest tree, taking hold of the lowest branches and pulling myself up. Once I am high enough, I look around the entire area until I spy it—I would never have seen it unless I had been looking for something like it specifically; I can't see any water itself, but there is a line cutting through the trees where no trees are growing.

I climb down, trying to remember the general direction. "I'm not exactly sure, but I think there might be a stream or a river over there," I point when I am safely on the ground. "There's a line where the trees are taller, and right in-between them there's a gap."

Carbon nods, and we head in the direction of my pointing. We walk for probably forty-five minutes before we can hear the soft sounds of rushing water and begin to celebrate. "We did it!" I say happily.

It's not so much a river as a stream, but the water looks pretty clean. After purifying it, even Carbon drinks it without hesitation. It's cold and refreshing, and we take turns bathing before we begin to search for a good place to set up camp.

* * *

**Daunté(1):**

Serina and Ash left us early this morning. They must have not wanted to have to turn on us, so they decided to make their own way now that they had supplies. Toggle, Myeeka and I, however, have set up camp a little ways away from the lake, so we can refill our water when necessary.

In fact, that's where Toggle is right now. Our water supplies were getting low, so he decided to go fill up the empty bottles while Myeeka and I hang our food in a tree so animals can't get at it. She's really good at things like this, and she's creating a makeshift pulley system so that we don't have to climb the tree every time we need to get our food down.

"There," she says with finality after making sure it works properly.

"Done?" I ask her.

"Yes." I watch as she sits down on a fallen tree and takes a sip of her water. She looks pretty even while she's drinking. She catches me staring, and I decide to join her on the log, taking a few water sips of my own.

"So," I say.

"So," she replies. Silence ensues. I notice goosebumps on her arms, and I become aware of how chilly it's getting.

"What happened to your sweater?" I ask her. She points to the food hanging in the tree, and I realize her sweater has become part of the contraption. "Oh," I say.

Silence again.

Her teeth begin to chatter, and I decide to say, "Well, if you're cold, do you want my sweater?"

She hesitates. "I'm fine . . ."

"Are you sure?"

"I guess . . . I mean, then you'll be cold."

"Well, I guess so, but it doesn't really matter . . ."

"Keep it, then," she says slowly.

After another minute of silence, I get up and pretend to search for something in my bag. When I don't find anything good, I decide to just repack it to kill time.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around, grabbing my sword, and get ready to strike, but it's only Toggle, carrying three full bottles of water.

"We've got water!" he announces almost too cheerfully, setting the bottles down. Myeeka gets up and moves towards him, letting him pull her into a hug.

"You were taking forever. I kept just listening for the cannon, hoping it wouldn't go off . . ." she says, anxiousness in her voice as she pulls away from him. Toggle doesn't take his hands off her arms; he rubs up and down as if to erase the goosebumps.

"I'm fine. The girl from Two was by the lake, so I had to take it slow and be extremely careful." Without skipping a beat, Toggle takes off his jacket and holds it open so Myeeka can put her arms in and pull it on.

"Xena?" Myeeka asks, her eyes wide. "Oh no. We need a safer water source." She pulls the jacket tight around her and adds a "Thank you".

"You're very welcome. And I think that you're right. We do need a safer water source. We can start hunting tomorrow."

I turn away from them. I can't watch anymore, and my own thoughts are drowning out what they are saying. This isn't fair! He knows her so well, and I don't have a chance.

* * *

**_Please submit your vote for this chapter. Among the dead are:_**

**_- Glade(4)  
- Lyle(10)  
- Safita(10)  
- Belle(5)  
- Peri(8)  
- Jay(12)  
- Levia(9)  
- Simon(5)  
- Mark(9)  
- Vicious(2)  
- Dag(12)  
- Cirstea(6)_**


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